


Take Me To The Riot

by KuroRiya



Series: Stars [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And Super Cute, Being Super Dumb, Dork Babies, Everyone Is Gay, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Nerd Marco, Nipple Piercings, Pastel Goth Armin, Punk Jean, Rating May Change, Recreational Drug Use, Tongue Piercings, Trans Levi, Trans Male Character, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, cuddling on the couch and stuff, kissing like gross teenagers, lots of piercings, watching Disney movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 23:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 73,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1487836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuroRiya/pseuds/KuroRiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco has always been intrigued by Jean, the school's resident punk. But it's always been a fearful, and distant, admiration. When the school system and Marco's kind nature forces them together, he's surprised how normal the once enigmatic boy turns out to be. And he's interested to see how Jean will change him, and vise versa. </p><p>Or the one where a punk and a nerd become boyfriends and kiss a bunch and do naughty things and everyone is gay except Sasha and Connie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Marco knew the name Jean Kirstein quite well. He heard it on a nearly constant basis, from friends, or passing gossipers. He heard it over the intercom, on rosters, shouted from the mouths of angry teachers and supervisors. But he hardly knew the face. The boy never came to class, if he could help it, and was nearly always either suspended, in detention, or serving some in-school suspension time.

But, when he did catch a glimpse, he couldn’t help but try to see more. The boy was always a fleeting presence, passing by in peripheral, and then disappearing down a different hall or into a room. All Marco could manage to take in before he was gone would be the different colored hair, tawny on the top, chestnut on the bottom.

Or perhaps it would be the leather jacket. Or the too many buckles or splashes of red all over his black clothing. Or the chain connecting the legs of his pants together loosely. Or the countless holes in his jeans. But never did he see the entire Jean Kirstein. Not in the flesh, anyway. He saw his handiwork. The graffiti he left all over the school, the curses he etched into desks, the kids that were terrified of him for one reason or another.

He’d seen pictures of him in the yearbook, scowling at the camera, facial piercings glaring against the flash. He’d seen the girls gossiping about him excitedly by the water fountain or in the lunch line. Apparently he was something of a catch, if the squealing girls were any indicator. They didn’t even notice Marco, or that he was listening with burning curiosity. Such were the perks and grievances of being a nerd.

Marco was painfully curious about this boy. He didn’t know when it’d started, this fascination, but he knew that it was burning more every day that the one in question eluded him. But what could he do? He was too scared of the boy to openly follow him or seek him out. He needed an excuse, or a happy coincidence.

He got lucky.

Apparently, in the middle of trying to sneak out and cut class, Jean had been caught. After receiving a weekend detention, he was escorted into class, and sat down. Right next to Marco. Never before had he had a chance to take in so much of Jean’s appearance. He had four facial piercings in addition to the ones in his ears; One in his eyebrow, one through the bridge of his nose, and then two below his bottom lip. What were those called? Snake bites? Or were they angel bites? Marco didn’t know the difference.

His clothes for the day included a pair of skinny jeans that could hardly be considered jeans at all anymore, a ripping t-shirt that said “Star Fucking Hipsters,” a pair of combat boots long past their glory days, too many studded bracelets to be counted, and a glare that could kill. Marco quickly dropped his eyes before he could be caught staring, as if he was the only one doing it. Jean wasn’t someone you got to see very often.

Jean huffed next to him, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, far enough that the front legs came off the ground. Marco’s stomach lurched a bit as he imagined the boy falling backwards, hitting his head, bleeding on the floor. But he didn’t, maintaining his balance and sighing with exasperation as the teacher began their lesson.

It wasn’t until the teacher started passing out a quiz that anything other than annoyance crossed the teen’s face. But it quickly turned to dread as he stared down at the fifty point quiz, clearly not prepared for it. He ran a pale hand through the lighter hair at the top of his head, looking around with mild panic.

It was a bit mind blowing for Marco. He’d never imagined that someone like Jean Kirstein would have test anxiety. He assumed that Jean didn’t care about his grades, considering how much class he cut. This was the first time Marco had ever seen him in one, actually. Yet there he was, biting at the nail of his thumb, brows furrowed as he started reading the questions.

Eventually, he leaned over, and Marco felt his limbs tense.

“Hey, let me borrow a pencil.” He said, voice low so the teacher wouldn’t hear. It took Marco a few seconds to realize what had been asked of him, and he quickly dove for his pencil bag, retrieving his nicest, newest pencil and offering it.

“Thanks.” Came the reply. Marco only nodded, returning to his own quiz. But then, only a few seconds later, the boy was leaning over again.

“Hey, let me borrow the answer to number three.” Was the inquiry this time. Marco looked over in surprise, biting his lip nervously, glancing toward the teacher. His heart was racing; He’d never cheated on anything before, let alone in the presence of a teacher! But, the way Jean was looking at him, he got the feeling he didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter.

With one last look at the teacher, he scooted his paper closer to Jean’s line of sight, palms sweating as the boy quickly copied, taking more answers than just the one he’d asked for. Marco assumed he was free to continue working when Jean had caught up to him, and pulled his paper back to his portion of the desk, scribbling away, hoping beyond hope that the teacher was paying as little attention as it seemed.

They continued in silence, but, just before he was about to get up and turn his paper in, Jean tapped him on the arm, looking at him pointedly. Again, his heart was racing with anxiety, but he did as he had before, scooting the paper over and letting Jean get the answers. He pretended to scribble a bit more before finally taking it up, leaving it with the teacher. There was no indication that he’d been caught.

He returned to his seat, and doodled idly in his notebook, trying to feel bad about what he’d done. But it was hard, seeing as it had kind of felt like self-defense. A few minutes later, Jean took his own quiz up, and sat back down as well, reaching over and plucking the notebook out from under Marco’s hands without a warning, making the bigger teen jump in his chair. Marco watched, uncertain of the boy’s intentions. When he received it back, Jean had written him a message.

‘Thanks. Didn’t know there was a quiz. I changed a few answers so the teacher won’t know. Nice doodles.’

The scrawl was sharp and slanted, but legible. Marco didn’t know whether he should respond or not, but he figured it would be rude not to.

‘Um, thanks, and no problem. Maybe if you came to class on occasion, you’d know when tests were.’

He didn’t mean it to sound rude, but he realized, as soon as he’d scooted the notebook over to Jean’s side of the table, that it probably came off that way. He wished to yank the paper out, crumple it up, and eat it. But Jean had already seen. Marco hid his face in his arms, praying to god that he wasn’t going to get beaten up after class.

He emerged when he felt something poking at his arm. It was the corner of the notebook, and he looked at the message, scared it might say something like ‘afterschool in the parking lot.’

But it didn’t say anything like that.

‘Maybe. Class is so boring though. :P’

He quirked a brow at the little emoticon. It wasn’t something he’d ever have expected Jean to write, but it definitely soothed his pounding heart. At least he wasn’t getting beaten up, for now.

‘It can be, yeah. But you’ll never graduate if you fail your classes!’

He waited for the response, wondering what Jean had to say on the matter. Maybe, somehow, the boy managed to pass his classes in the end. Maybe he aced the finals, and therefore scraped by?

‘I don’t care. Dropping out as soon as I’m old enough.’

Marco frowned, looking over to the teen. He didn’t like the sound of that.

‘That’s such a waste! You’ve made it this far! It’s just one more year!’

It took Jean a longer time to reply this time, but the message wasn’t any longer. Maybe he just needed a while to think.

‘It’s too much for me. Not good at studying and shit. Too stressful. And I’m stupid.’

Marco sighed, thinking over his answer before he started writing.

‘No one is stupid, but if you’re having a hard time, then get a tutor? I have a friend that’s tutoring one of his classmates, and they’re both doing great this year!’

He wondered how his suggestion would go over. It was more than just the difficulty of school, surely. It was obvious that Jean didn’t like even the idea of it, considering how often he skipped. But why bother coming at all, if he really cared so little?

‘No one wants to tutor me, trust me.’

Marco didn’t know what to say. He could understand what Jean meant. While he was talked about, even admired throughout the school, it was a fearful admiration. No one had ever claimed to be close to Jean, and no one actively tried to be. While he could be seen talking to a few people on occasion, he didn’t really have any friends to speak of. Everyone was too mystified by his reputation, by his enigma of an existence, to really talk to him.

But that wouldn’t do, Marco decided. Everyone deserved a fair chance. But, before he could start writing his response, the bell to dismiss classes rung, and the scooting of chairs and chatter of classmates made him unable to fulfill his intentions. Everyone began leaving, and he nearly lost the teen in the shuffling of the crowd.

Thankfully, Jean didn’t move with any sense of urgency, and was the last one, besides Marco, to make it to the door.

“Jean!” He called, walking quickly to catch up. The boy seemed surprised to hear his own name, but he paused as Marco rushed to meet him. As soon as he had, though, he felt his heart beating against his chest, face flushing. Calling out had seemed a good idea, in theory. But now he found himself a bit scared to say anything. Writing had been so much easier.

“What?” The other teen asked, voice tinged with a bit of impatience. Marco twisted his fingers into the hem of his shirt.

“U-Um, I…” He began, swallowing. He had to say it. “I would tutor you, if you wanted!” He said, much too quickly, the words likely jumbled. But that was the most he could manage. He wanted to run, but knew he should wait for a response, one way or the other. He wasn’t expecting the one he got.

“Really?” Jean asked, genuine surprise lacing his tone. Marco looked up, surprised as well. Jean didn’t look angry, or offended, or disgusted. Just surprised.

“Uh, yeah! I get A’s, so I’m qualified, I think.” He offered, giving a small smile. Jean seemed to be thinking on it, fingers tapping against his thigh.

“You wouldn’t mind?” He finally asked, looking vaguely hopeful. Marco’s smiled widened.

“No, of course not! I don’t do much afterschool besides studying anyway.” He admitted, running his fingers through his hair. Jean politely chose not to comment.

“That… That’d be awesome, uh…” He trailed.

“Marco.” The freckled teen supplied, offering his hand. Jean took it, shaking. It felt strange, dangerous to have touched the famous Jean Kirstein. But he shook like anyone else did.

“Marco. When would we meet?” He asked, and they started walking. Marco set up times, working around his few club activities. Before they had to split up to go to separate classes, they’d designated a place to meet and a few days a week that worked for the both of them. Jean promised to go to class to find out what he needed to be working on, and Marco promised to talk to his friend about proper tutoring techniques.

As it would turn out, Armin was more than happy to share his teaching methods. And, Marco thought to himself, if they worked on Eren, they’d work on Jean. He took notes instead of picking at his food, thanking Armin as they went to different classes. He already had a few ideas forming in his mind just from talking about it, and he found himself looking forward to meeting Jean afterschool.

Jean was already waiting at the designated tree out back when Marco got out of class. He watched the other boy from afar for a few seconds, admiring his lanky form, dark and shadowed underneath the leaves, smoke billowing from his lips and his lit cigarette. He was beautiful, he thought. But no, thoughts like that wouldn’t do.

He approached cautiously, offering a smile when the teen’s head lifted to see who was approaching. He quickly snuffed the cigarette against the ground, stepping on it to make sure it was out. The smell of smoke lingered though. Marco was starting to think he kind of liked the smell of tobacco. 

“Hey.” Jean offered.

“Hey.” Marco replied, following Jean to his car. It was beat up, on its last limb. But at least he had one. Marco still took the bus.

They drove to Marco’s house, and Jean parked on the side of the road, waiting as Marco collected his bag out of the backseat. Jean didn’t have one. Marco led him inside, instructing him to take his shoes off as he headed to the kitchen and sat his bag down on the table. Jean followed him, pulling out a chair and waiting while Marco got a snack, making enough pizza rolls for two.

They both munched while Marco started pulling things out, getting organized before even starting. Then he asked about what Jean needed to work on, and they got down to business, studying late enough that Mrs. Bodt had the pleasure of meeting the two-toned teen. She insisted, after hugging him in a common display of Bodt hospitality (much to Marco’s horror,) that he was far too skinny and needed to stay for dinner. After some convincing, Jean agreed, and somehow squeezed in between Marco and his younger brother, Nardo.

All of the Bodts stole glances at the guest, curious and perhaps worried about Marco’s suddenly strange taste in friends. Jean was, after all, a bit outside of Marco’s friendship norm. The black and leather and chains and studs contrasted pretty strongly with Armin’s pastels and cutesy sweaters. But they were nothing but polite to him, offering him second helpings and pointing out his bony wrists when he tried to refuse. He ended up taking the second helping, and dessert.

When he finally announced that he was leaving, Marco saw him to the door, smiling as he opened the door and took his first step out. His heart was sinking a bit as the boy left. He’d probably scared him off with his family. Maybe it had been weird of him to offer in the first place. Surely Jean was uncomfortable after getting a total of ten hugs before he left. He’d forgotten to warn Jean that his family was Italian. He’d probably figured that out though.

Jean turned right before he left the porch.

“Oh, thanks for helping me out, man.” He called, rubbing the back of his head. “I actually understood statistics for once. Uh, Friday, right?” He asked, and Marco could hear the hope in his voice. He grinned, nodding. “Alright. See you.”

And he was gone, hopping into his car and driving home.

But he was at school the next day. He was in classes. Marco had four whole classes with him, and he’d never even realized. But there he was, and he’d always steal the seat next to Marco, regardless of who may or may not have sat there before. No one ever said anything to him. He was still Jean Kirstein, after all.

He’d lean over and ask Marco questions when he didn’t understand, or scribble notes to him when he was bored. Marco started bringing a notebook just for passing notes with Jean after the one he usually carried started to get thin. It was only two days till Friday, but already they’d found a new routine.

When Friday did come, they drove to Marco’s house, like the Wednesday before. Marco made a snack. They sat at the kitchen table, and studied. Before Mrs. Bodt came home, Jean snuck out for a smoke break. When he came back, they returned to their studying, Marco trying to be discreet as he inhaled the smoky scent. But at some point, when they’d reached the awkward state where there wasn’t much else to work on, Marco let his curiosity get the better of him.

“Jean?” He prompted, getting a hum in reply. “I get that you skip school because you didn’t plan on graduating. But why the graffiti?” He wondered, looking over at the paler boy. Jean was quiet for a while, likely thinking about his answer.

“I don’t really know. It’s just… It’s something I can do. They try so hard to control me, and my future. But they can’t control my paint.” He offered, shrugging. “I’m not good at art or anything, and I always get into it with art teachers when I try. But no one grades graffiti. Everyone has a chance of seeing it though. It’s an outlet, I guess. Better I paint a wall than fight someone. Trust me, I’ve done that too.” He continued. Marco swallowed, eyeing the spiked wristbands, imagining how much they’d hurt if Jean punched someone with them on. Maybe that’s why he wore them.

“I’m… I’m not a terrible guy, or anything.” Jean said, letting his pencil idle. “I won’t say I’m misunderstood or anything. I just… I don’t fit in well. I don’t like to live the same way other people do, and that results in a lot of disagreements. But I’m still human, you know?”

Marco frowned, reevaluating his previous beliefs about Jean. Truth be told, even though they’d started spending a bit of time together, he was still seeing Jean as something… Well, not real. Jean didn’t feel like he was really part of the world, or, at least, not a part of Marco’s. He was so different, so unlike Marco. It seemed unbelievable that someone like that could exist in the same space.

But the words hit home. Jean was a human. He had feelings, and he struggled with things just like anyone else. He ate food, and used the bathroom, and hopefully showered. He caught colds, and had to blow his nose, and had itches he had to scratch. And it all kind of overwhelmed Marco; so much so that he forced himself to return to his homework and check the answers over to make it look like he wasn’t avoiding talking. He’d only babble nonsense if they did.

They worked in silence till Marco’s mother bustled into the kitchen, crushing Jean in another hug. Marco only sighed, patting Jean’s back as he all but hacked up a lung. And the awkwardness was gone then. And Jean was human. Marco’s family had seen that, but it had only just dawned on Marco. He’d have to start treating Jean appropriately.

He stayed for dinner again, eating just as much before he bid his goodbye. But not before Mrs. Bodt informed him that he was always welcome to join them for dinner.

Marco took him to the door again, leaning in the frame after Jean passed through.

“Thanks.” Jean said, giving Marco a smirk.

“It’s no problem. My mom likes you, so you can come over any time you like.” He returned, giving a smile of his own. “Oh, I like you too. You don’t have to wait till you’re hungry to visit.” He added. Jean stood awkwardly for a moment, fidgeting with one of the spiked bracelets around his wrist.

“Uh, actually… I was wondering if you might want to go to a party with me this weekend?” He inquired. Marco’s brows rose in surprise. He’d never been invited to a party before, nor had he ever attended one.

“I… I might not be the best person to ask. I don’t really know how to party.” He admitted. Jean snorted.

“Well, for starters, you show up.” Was his curt reply. “I’ll be over for you tomorrow at seven.” He informed the other teen, heading for his car before Marco could decline. He closed the door after the car sped off down the street, looking at the wood with fear and excitement. He was going to a party. His very first party. And Jean had asked him to go. Jean wanted to hang out with him, outside of tutoring. Jean Kirstein.

He had to smile to himself, because, a few days ago, Jean was an enigma, someone to be wary of, someone to admire from afar. Now they were going to a party together.

Marco would have to find his favorite sweater vest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to warn anyone who might be worried; This chapter involves some recreational drug use and underage drinking. You know, typical teenager stuff.

Well, he found his favorite sweater vest, but not his nerve. Even when Jean pulled into his driveway and knocked at the door, even when his mother answered it and directed him upstairs to the last door on the left, even when he rapped at the wood of Marco's bedroom door. And, even as he told him to come in, anxiously smoothing down his shirt underneath the vest, he was still searching for it.

He took in Jean's attire. It was the same as any other day, really. Some punk band shirt, a denim jacket with patches sewn in, a few silver rings around random fingers, a pyramid studded belt trying to hold up too-skinny jeans, and the ever-present combat boots. Marco felt silly in his sweater now. What had he been thinking, wearing a sweater to a party? As if he wasn't a big enough dork already!

But Jean only nodded in approval, messing up his hair a bit before grabbing his arm and dragging him out to the car, promising to take care of him as they passed Mrs. Bodt. He felt his face flush, but didn't object, getting in and letting Jean drive them to wherever this party was being held.

Jean parked on the side of the road, as the driveway was already full of cars. It was a nicer house; big and obviously owned by someone relatively well off. Marco followed Jean nervously, whining low in his throat as Jean let himself in, but still following despite his discomfort with the idea of breaking in.

He was surprised when he entered. The music wasn't so blaringly loud that he couldn't hear himself think. There weren't dead people lying in puddles of their own vomit, or couples humping against the wall. No one was snorting crack off of the glass coffee table, and no one was shooting heroin in a corner. He breathed a sigh of relief, tailing Jean into the kitchen.

He was thankful when he noticed that he wasn't the only person not dressed in punk attire. In fact, there weren't many who were. Jean still stuck out.

When they entered the kitchen, Marco nearly stumbled right back out, startled by the sheer height of the man they'd walked in on. But he only grinned, grabbing Marco's shoulder to help steady him. Jean grinned too, clapping the big guy on the shoulder, the gesture looking a tad awkward thanks to the height difference.

"Reiner, this is Marco." He said, gesturing toward the still frozen teen. Reiner. He'd heard that name. Reiner played football. The one in question stuck his huge hand out, enveloping Marco's almost entirely.

"Ah, you're the guy trying to get this misfit through school, huh?" He wondered, voice loud and full of mirth. But Marco liked it. He smiled nervously.

"Um…" He hesitated, not sure what would be appropriate to say. Jean barked a laugh.

"Like you can even talk! If Bertl didn't write your essays for you, you'd have flunked out years ago." He pointed out, and Reiner laughed as well.

"Yeah, fair enough. Anyway, Jean tells me this is your first party." He said, turning to Marco. The teen nodded shyly. "Alright, well, this is my place. Don't break anything that looks expensive. If you need anything, or can't find something, look for me. I'm pretty hard to miss. Drinks are over there." He said, pointing to the kitchen table, littered with bottles of every kind of alcohol Marco had ever heard of, and dozens he hadn't. "Help yourself. If you've never had a drink before though, then have Jean help you out. He can show you the ropes." He suggested. Marco nodded again, nervously eying the bottles.

"There's food all over the place, at least until Sasha gets here. And I've got a room set up for you guys if you do decide to get drunk. Keys, Jean." He demanded, turning to the other teen. Jean reluctantly pulled them out of his pocket, handing them over with a sigh. "They'll be with Bertl." He added, walking off after winking at Marco. "Have fun! Oh, and watch out, Jean gets handsy when he's drunk!" He called.

There was a moment of silence as the hulking teen left, Jean and Marco standing awkwardly to the right of the table. Neither mentioned the latter part of what Reiner had said. Marco, again, turned to eye the bottles. He knew that there was alcohol at parties, but he never imagined it would be so much. And it hadn't dawned on him that he would have to drink when he was getting ready to go. Now he was regretting it.

Jean clasped his shoulder for a second.

"Hey, you don't have to drink if you don't want to." He said softly. It was such a strange contrast to his appearance, all spikes and ripped clothing, but Marco nodded appreciatively. "Not everyone does. Bertl is everyone's designated everything. He keeps keys, helps people to bathrooms, drives them home if they need it. And Krista doesn't usually have more than one. I didn't bring you here to force drinks on you. I want you to have fun." He explained. Marco smiled, heart fluttering at the words.

He didn't know why, but hearing that from Jean meant a lot to him. Oh, who was he kidding? He knew why. He liked Jean. He always had. He just hadn't allowed himself to think it. But it was becoming painfully obvious. It was in the way he would think about the boy long after he was gone; think about his spikes and his zippers and his worn out combat boots, or his chestnut and cream colored hair. Or the way he'd steal his father's ash tray and 'accidentally' spill a few of the ashes along his windowsill, so that the smell would linger in his room. It was Jean's smell, and he hadn't realized that he loved it until he'd started spending time with Jean. Though, it was more than just ashes. It was smoke, and aftershave, and something a little off, sort of like lemons. He was still trying to put it in words. Kind of like the boy himself. Still, he knew better than to mention it to Jean.

Jean had moved over to the table, grabbing for a beer from a big case. He popped the top off of it and took a big drink, sighing with satisfaction. Marco eyed the brown bottle with fear, awe, and curiosity. Everyone drank beer. His mother, his father, his older siblings, Jean. Was it good? Or was it, like, a requirement?

Jean caught him staring, and smiled, reaching to pull another one out. He popped the lid off, and Marco watched a puff of vapor curl into the air, ghosting around Jean's long fingers. He was then handed the bottle, and he held it cautiously. He still wasn't sure if he wanted to drink at all. He'd never done it before, nor had he ever had intentions of trying it before he was twenty-one. But, watching Jean drink it down, watching everyone around him doing the same… It had him curious.

So he took a swig. He then proceeded to hack and regret his decision immensely, lips curling from the terrible flavor. Jean only cackled, patting his back.

"You should try cheap beer. It's even worse." He laughed, and Marco whined.

"Why would you drink it if it's so horrible?" He demanded.

"You stop tasting it after a while. And I'll be going for the whiskey in a bit. I always start with a beer though. At least then you know that it can't get any worse." He offered. Marco's nose crinkled and he eyed the bottle with disdain. But he'd taken it, it was his to finish.

So he set to work, sipping at it occasionally and snacking in between to rid his mouth of the flavor. Jean was already halfway through his second one when Marco finally finished his first, the flavor only getting worse as he approached the bottom. He was glad when he was done, and handed Jean his bottle to be thrown away.

Jean smirked, grabbing one of the red solo cups stacked on one side of the table, fingers tracing over the lips of several bottles before plucking one out, pouring a little in, and handing that to Marco. He poured himself a more generous serving, then put the bottle down.

"Alright, Bodt. This is whiskey. Oh, hmm… You might want a chaser. I usually say no chasers for whiskey, but it's your first time. Hold on." He said, putting his drink down and opening the fridge, taking out a bottle of Dr. Pepper and pouring it in a cup, which he handed to Marco. Marco sloshed the amber liquid, still a little nervous about this whole drinking thing.

He brought the cup to his lips as Jean did, but not before taking note of how stark the red plastic was against pale white skin. He took it all in one drink. It stung, and his eyes watered, but he managed to get it down, frantically drinking the soda to relieve the burn. It worked for the most part, and he winced as Jean took another drink from his own cup.

"That's even worse!" He whined. Jean only laughed again.

"Whiskey is definitely not for everyone." He agreed, peeling the denim jacket off and draping it over one of the kitchen chairs. "Hmm… We'll try one more. It's not a good idea to mix a bunch of different kinds. If you don't like rum, then you're sticking to beer for the night." He said, and Marco sighed. Another one? Well, just one more.

Jean searched through the bottles, finally pulling one out. He then went to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of coke, pouring both into the solo cup. Marco raised a brow, suddenly questioning Jean's sanity. But he took the cup, sipping at it hesitantly as Jean watched him eagerly. He was surprised to find that it didn't taste absolutely terrible. In fact, it was kind of sweet, cutting the bite of the alcohol well enough that he kept drinking. Jean grinned.

"Rum and Coke it is, then." He announced, taking the cup and filling it more, dropping in a couple cubes of ice. Marco took it back, and began timing his sips to Jean's. He ended up falling behind a bit, but that was okay. "Drink a lot of water." Jean warned, getting him one as he said it. "Trust me on this one." He plead. And Marco did.

His chest started to feel warm around the time Jean was pouring him a third cup, and he smiled goofily, taking much bigger drinks now. Jean too had loosened up, and he tried to drape an arm around Marco's shoulders, remembering a little too late that he was a bit shorter, so he ended up having to settle for wrapping his arm around Marco's back instead. Marco giggled, thinking it rather funny. Jean nudged him gently, but was grinning too.

He knew he was getting drunk. Well, maybe not drunk, but at least tipsy. He was aware of the distortion in his perception, but it wasn't impairing him yet. But, seeing as he was already on the borderline, he decided, to hell with it. He was a teenager, for heaven's sake, and he was going to drink at his first party if he wanted to. Jean was there. Jean would take care of him.

They walked out of the kitchen at last, and joined a small group of teens, gathered together and talking about something. Marco wasn't really interested in fireworks, or so he thought until he was animatedly mimicking the explosive conclusion of the New Year's fireworks display. Everyone seemed to think he was hilarious though, as they all laughed at his reenactment.

At some point, after getting a refill and trying a shot of vodka, the group wound up downstairs, someone setting up a card game. Marco had never played, but, after having Jean show him the ropes, he got pretty into it. Not as into it as Jean, who began threatening people with his spiked wristbands, but still into it. Jean's face when he lost, to Marco no less, was pretty priceless.

He wouldn't speak to him for a few minutes, shuffling outside to smoke, leaving Marco to entertain a small crowd that gathered to watch him impersonate Jean. Even Jean himself, who eventually returned, couldn't help but laugh, cuffing him over the head, then apologizing when it actually hurt thanks to the spiked bracelet. Marco couldn't be angry though, because he smelled smoky and wonderful.

Another shot of vodka, or maybe two, and Marco had to take a few extra seconds to do everything. Pulling his pants down to pee for the twentieth time took him about five seconds longer than it should have, but at least he wasn't missing the toilet. Finding Jean after peeing for the twenty fifth time proved a challenge. When he did finally find him, he hugged him close to his chest.

"Don't leave me like that!" He exclaimed, frowning deeply. Jean quirked a brow, patting his back.

"I didn't go anywhere." He grimaced, peeling Marco off of his person. "You better have washed your hands… I think maybe you should stop." He announced, plucking the cup from Marco's hands and finding a surface to put it on. Marco whined, but let Jean lead him away, back towards the front room. They socialized for a bit, Jean introducing Marco to practically everyone. Though Jean didn't seem particularly close to anyone, he seemed to know practically every person in attendance.

Marco was surprised how accepting everyone was of him. They didn't care that he was, usually, a straight-laced student. They didn't care that he didn't usually drink. They didn't care that he was wearing a sweater vest. They didn't care that he had no idea what he was doing, or that, halfway through explaining dolphin sex he'd switched to Jellyfish and their lack of brains. They just laughed and made him feel welcome. And Jean never left his side except to get himself another drink, which helped ease Marco's nerves.

He eventually convinced Jean to let him have a swig of his whiskey, since it'd been about an hour since he'd had anything. It went down much easier this time, and he smiled at the warmth that spread through his chest. Jean quickly reclaimed his glass, his hand finding Marco's back, resting in the small of it as they chatted.

At some point, someone beckoned Jean out back. Marco thought he remembered her being introduced as Sasha, though he'd seen very little of her, only when she came to find food. Jean headed her way, and Marco followed, waving goodbye to the group of new acquaintances. They ended up on the back porch, and Marco looked around at the small crowd that had amassed. He recognized a couple of them that he'd been talking to at some point, like Bertholdt, who had everyone's keys, and Connie, who was apparently Sasha's boyfriend. But he didn't really know what they were all doing outside.

Until he saw the little cigarette that was being passed around. Well, it wasn't really a cigarette, he reminded himself. He wasn't stupid, he knew the difference. He'd been nervous enough about one illegal substance, but two in one night?

Jean took it without question, putting it between his lips and inhaling, holding it in for several seconds before letting himself cough. Marco was concerned, but everyone before him had done the same thing, so it apparently wasn't a bad thing.

When he'd finished coughing, he offered it to Marco. He didn't shove it into his hands or anything, but the offer was there. Marco wasn't sure what he wanted to do. He knew it was supposed to be bad, knew it was illegal. He knew he should be anxious, scared. But he wasn't. Maybe that was all the rum talking.

"You don't have to, Marco." Jean said, leaning in close to his ear. He smelled smoky again, but it was different. It wasn't as good, but it wasn't bad either.

Marco took it, taking a little breath before bringing to his lips and trying to copy what Jean had done. But it burned too badly, and he coughed immediately, someone taking the blunt from his fingers while Jean patted his back.

"Hey, it's alright. It gets easier, I promise, baby." Jean cooed, getting Marco back upright, walking him over to a doghouse sturdy enough for him to sit on. He brushed fingers through his hair until he'd managed to catch his breath, and offered him a drink of water for his troubles.

"You're so weird, Jean." Marco announced, sipping at the water. This earned him a hum of confusion. "You wear all these dark, spiky clothes and say you beat people up. But then you're secretly all nice and stuff. What's up with that?" He demanded, looking up at the boy. Jean bit his lip, fighting a smile.

"You shouldn't assume everyone who dresses like a punk is an ass." He pointed out, tapping Marco's forehead playfully. Marco only pouted.

The blunt came around again, and Jean took another hit, passing it back to Marco.

"Alright, babe, when you suck it in, try to hold it in your lungs for as long as you can. You're still going to cough, but you'll feel more of the high if you can hold it in for a while." He explained. Marco nodded, bringing it up and doing as Jean said, managing to keep it in longer this time. He still hacked up a lung, but he couldn't say he really cared, sipping at his water to soothe the feeling.

It got a lot harder to focus after that, and he could barely understand what people were saying, laughing only because everyone else was. He was much more interested in the freckles spotting his arms, giggling to himself as he located not only the big, but also the little dipper. Jean nudged him, and Marco looked up, sharing his findings with his companion, which only earned him some cackling. He liked it when Jean laughed, and he liked the way he smelled. And they smelled the same now. Smoky. Maybe Jean would let him borrow his aftershave if he asked nicely?

They went back inside, finding a couch that wasn't already occupied and just chilling out for a bit, Marco still tracing stars in his freckles. He'd never realized how many he had until then. He tried to think of when he'd earned each one, but ended up just making up stories in his head for each, which eventually led him back into tracing patterns. Jean began doing the same, finger connecting them one by one to form something only he recognized. That was alright though, it felt nice.

At some point, Jean got himself another drink, and allowed Marco another shot of vodka. Marco was going to take it, but someone else plopped down on the couch behind him, knocking into him, and he fell forward, spilling most of the drink on Jean's stomach.

"Oh jeez, I'm sorry Jean!" Marco cried, setting the glass down and patting the wet patch on the band shirt. Jean swatted his hands away.

"It's alright, calm down. It's just a little vodka." He said quickly, taking a sip from his whiskey.

"But you're wet!" Marco insisted, stumbling into the kitchen and finding a towel, which he brought back and pressed into the spot. Jean groaned.

"Babe, that's my stomach, full of booze, that you are pushing on!" He grunted, and Marco gasped, dropping the cloth and holding his hands up in surrender.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" He promised, and Jean shook his head.

"It's fine, just calm down, sweetheart." Jean murmured, getting comfortable again, one arm wrapping around Marco's shoulders, able to do it this time because of their sitting positions. Marco was slouched back, while Jean sat up more straight. Maybe he was only sitting up because he wanted to be able to rest his arm over Marco's shoulders. That seemed a little silly, but, in his foggy mind, it also seemed possible.

His eyes began to feel heavy, and he was just bordering on drowsiness when the person who'd bumped him handed him another shot, explaining that they were sorry for making him spill his last one. He smiled widely at them, taking it and downing it quickly before getting comfortable again, laying his head against Jean's. He miscalculated a bit though, and ended up falling over, barely catching himself before he was in the other boy's lap.

"Shoot, sorry!" He laughed, shakily sitting himself back up. He grinned at Jean, but the gesture wasn't returned. Jean was just staring, and Marco's smile fell. Was Jean actually mad? He hadn't meant to fall over! He was just about to give a better apology, but he was cut off as Jean's arm came back around him, pulling him closer until their faces met in the middle.

It took him a good ten seconds to realize that he was kissing Jean. Maybe it was because it was the last thing he expected to happen, or maybe it was the alcohol, or the drugs, or the late hour. Whatever the reason, his late reaction was laugh-worthy. If he wasn't currently lip-locked with Jean Kirstein, he probably would have laughed at himself. But he was lip-locked with Jean Kirstein, so he bit it down, trying to focus on the feeling of it instead.

He didn't know what to think. It was his first time kissing anyone, especially a guy. He'd never thought of himself as gay, even when he'd admitted to himself that he liked Jean. But, thinking back on it, it probably should have dawned on him that he was at least a little queer. It didn't bother him as much as it probably should have. But, though he didn't have anything to compare it to, it seemed to him that Jean was a good kisser. And he was so wrapped up in the lips against his that he forgot to be afraid, forgot to be embarrassed about all the people at the party probably watching them.

What was Jean thinking? He'd never given off any indication that he was interested in guys either, and definitely not Marco. They'd studied together, and had dinner with the Bodts a couple times. But, the party aside, that was as far as their relationship really went. Then again, Jean didn't show many emotions in the first place. And, honestly, how did one know if someone liked them?

There was always the possibility that Jean didn't like him at all. Maybe he was just drunk, and wanted to make out with someone. Maybe Marco was just convenient. Reiner had mentioned that Jean got 'handsy' when he was drunk. Maybe, when they both sobered up, Jean would ask him to pretend like it'd never happen. Maybe he wouldn't even remember. And it would hurt if that was true, because Marco knew he'd never forget it. But he still couldn't force himself to stop, arms shaking as they slowly wrapped around Jean's neck.

His head was spinning, and everything but Jean began to fade into the background. Noises didn't make sense, words were lost to him, his eyes closed against the whirling of the room, and his nose could only detect the overwhelming amount of cologne that Jean had on, and the smoke, the ashes. It was so much, and Marco felt his stomach twisting, and barely managed to shove Jean off of him roughly, stumbling towards the bathroom.

He nearly didn't make it, but somehow managed to get to the toilet, stomach clenching as he emptied about half of its contents. He was in the middle of coughing and sputtering when Jean rushed in. Marco could see the panic on his face, but it melted into concern when he saw the state Marco was currently in. It was strange, and Marco had to wonder why he'd panicked. Was he worried that Marco didn't like him? With as hard as he'd shoved him, it might have seemed that way.

He wanted to tell Jean that he liked him just fine. Quite a lot, actually, if he was being honest. But his words were lost as he began retching again, his eyes watering as he threw more up into the porcelain. Jean quietly shut the bathroom door, then walked over, taking all of his bracelets off before he sat down next to the vomiting boy. He rubbed his back soothingly, patting any time Marco started coughing or heaving. When it seemed that Marco was done, he pulled him back, flushing the toilet before he let Marco lean against it again.

"You're probably not done, sweetheart. I'm going to go get you some water, I'll be right back." He murmured, rubbing Marco's back for just a few seconds before disappearing for a moment. Marco felt a bit better, his cheek pressed against the rim of the toilet. He thanked the stars that it was clean, as far as he could tell. He'd had the fortune of stumbling towards the less-used bathroom in the house.

Jean came back quickly, a cup full of water in hand. Marco didn't want it, but Jean made him sit up and rinse his mouth out and take a few sips. And that made him feel a little better too, but he wanted to lie back down on the toilet. The coolness felt nice.

Jean set back to rubbing his back, finding a soothing pattern, and Marco dozed off, eventually waking when he heard some loud thrumming. Someone had turned the music up. He lifted his head warily, listening to the beat for a bit. But it began to make his stomach churn, so he tried to block it out instead. But it suddenly became the only thing he could hear. He could feel it, and it felt like drowning, and before he knew it, he was retching all over again. Jean, who had apparently dozed off as well, quickly snapped back to attention, patting his back gently as he heaved again. Not much came out this time, but he couldn't stop coughing, which only induced more heaving.

His eyes weren't watering anymore, he was crying. And he was embarrassed to admit it, but it was miserable, sitting there, wishing he could just throw up and be done with it. But there wasn't much left to purge, though his body was definitely trying. Jean waited patiently till he went limp, and made him wash his mouth out again, and drink some of the water. Marco only groaned, lying down on the floor, letting the tile cool his feverish body.

"Jean," he croaked, voice hoarse from vomiting and not speaking. Jean hummed to show he was listening while he refilled the cup in the sink. "Go back to the party. I can throw up by myself. There's no sense in you missing out on the fun." He pointed out. Jean ignored him though, sitting back down. Once he was situated, he pulled Marco's head into his lap.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby. You'll start feeling better in a bit, and we'll go lay down. Reiner has a room for us. But we're going to wait till you can get up." He cooed. Marco only sighed.

"Jean, I'm alright. I'll be here for a while." He urged, cuddling into the other boy's thighs despite his words.

"And so will I. Go ahead and sleep for a bit. I'll be right here when you wake up." He promised, brushing the sweaty bangs from Marco's forehead. Lucky for him, Marco didn't have the energy to protest further, and he did as he was told, dozing off to Jean's breathing instead of the thrum of the music. Somewhere in his mind, he registered Jean moving every once in a while; resituating his legs, rubbing Marco's back, taking something out of his pocket. But it didn't stir him long enough to even open his eyes.

He did wake up when someone knocked on the door, lashes fluttering a few times before he managed to keep them open. Reiner stood in the doorway, looking down at the two on the floor. He didn't make any snide remarks, only knelt down, big hand resting against Marco's cheek.

"Not feeling too good, are you?" He wondered, and Marco shook his head. Jean brought his fingers to Marco's hair, scratching lightly against his scalp. It felt wonderful.

"I let him have too much. I wasn't thinking. Hazing's not his thing." Jean announced, and Marco looked up to see his face set with a deep frown.

"Well, at least you know now. I'll go get you some crackers for when he's done puking. And, like I said, I have a room for you two. Second on the right." He replied, standing back up and leaving for the kitchen.

Marco sighed, closing his eyes again. He was feeling a lot better, and eventually convinced himself to stand. That, he quickly found out, was a mistake. He wasn't on his feet two seconds before he had to sit right back down in front of the toilet.

It was only dry heaving this time, but that was almost worse. Jean sat behind him, resting his head against Marco's back as he sobbed and coughed between retching, rubbing his sides, pressing kisses to his shoulders and whispering soothing words.

It worked, and Marco accepted the toilet paper he was handed, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose, then taking a drink of water when it was handed to him. He downed nearly half of it this time, gasping when he'd finished. Jean chuckled, hugging him from behind after he set the cup aside.

"Almost done, sweetheart. We'll stay just a little bit longer, just in case." He murmured, and Marco nodded, body exhausted. He heard the door open, and Reiner handed Jean a little package of crackers, then took his leave.

Marco eyed them warily, the thought of eating anything making his stomach hurt. Jean noticed, and he set them aside.

"I know you don't want to, but you need to eat them in a bit, baby. It'll make you feel better, trust me." He said, and Marco huffed, leaning back against Jean's chest. He just waited like that for a long time, trying not to fall asleep again. It seemed every time he woke up, he'd feel bad again. So maybe, if he could just stay awake, he'd feel better.

After about twenty minutes of nothing, Jean opened the package of crackers, pressing one to Marco's lips. He shut them stubbornly, refusing the food.

"Hey, we just talked about this. You'll feel better if you eat them." Jean reminded him, pressing again. Marco couldn't see how, but he opened his mouth and took a bite. It was hard to swallow, his mouth and throat feeling dry, but he did manage to get it down. Jean offered him a drink of water, which he gratefully took.

As it would turn out, Jean was right. The cracker made him feel a little better. So he ate both of them, and drank all of the water. Jean waited a few minutes for the food to settle before he attempted to get Marco on his feet. Even then, it was slow going. He first got him sitting on the toilet, head still bowed. Marco had to take a second, resting his forehead on the sink this time. Jean waited there, until Marco shooed him out. He had to pee.

Jean gave him a few minutes, then knocked. He received no answer, but opened the door anyway, finding Marco asleep again. With some effort, he brought the boy to consciousness, and got him to his feet, albeit shakily, and led him to the stairs after flushing the toilet for him. That was even slower going, and they had to stop and rest about halfway up. But, with some persistence, they managed to find the room they'd been allotted.

Jean let Marco sit on the bed, then got to the task of pulling his sweater and shirt off, then his pants. Marco whined lowly as his clothing was taken from him, blearily trying to cover himself.

"Oh, quit it you dork. You don't have anything I don't. And trust me; you'll be thanking me later. Sleeping in your clothes is horrible when you're drunk." Marco only sighed, rubbing at his forehead. "Come here." Jean commanded, and Marco did his best, getting up and stumbling over, just barely making it. Jean lowered him to the floor, making sure he was close enough to the wall to lean his back against it.

"I'm going to grab all of our stuff from the bathroom, and get a wash rag to wipe you down. Don't move, alright? I'll be right back." He promised, and Marco nodded, sinking his fingers into the thick carpet and drawing random shapes until Jean came back. He had gathered all of his bracelets and wristbands, as well as Marco's phone, and a washcloth, as promised.

Marco was already half asleep, so he let Jean wipe his face and chest down without much protest, aside from the initial shock of the barely-warm wetness of the cloth. Jean hung the cloth on the doorknob, then set to the task of taking his own clothing off, leaving them both in boxers. Marco couldn't appreciate the view though, too exhausted and miserable. Maybe in the morning.

Jean grabbed a trashcan from a corner in the room, bringing it to one side of the bed, likely Marco's side. He made sure it was close to the head, where Marco could easily get to it if he needed to.

Jean helped him off the floor again, hefting him into the bed and pulling the blankets up to his chin. Marco groaned, shoving them down. He still felt feverishly hot, and didn't want anything to do with the thick comforter. Jean sighed, getting into bed as well, and pulling his half of the bedclothes over his form.

"You're going to get really cold in a while, sweetheart. You should get the blankets warm now, so it's not so bad." He suggested, brushing Marco's bangs aside. Marco just shook his head, rolling over to face away from Jean, falling asleep almost immediately. Jean only sighed again, but let him do as he pleased.

It was dark when Marco next opened his eyes, and he didn't know at first what had woken him. Then he realized that he was shivering violently, and he reached for the comforter, fumbling with his shaking hands. Apparently he'd woken Jean too though, for the boy huffed, pulling the blanket over his bedmate easily.

"I told you." He said quietly, arms working underneath the sheets to pull Marco closer to him. Despite his embarrassment, Marco couldn't keep himself from snuggling up to the body heat, shoving his toes against Jean's warmer feet and pressing his icy nose against his collarbone.

"Fuck, babe!" Jean cursed, but he didn't push him away. On the contrary, he pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around the shaking frame, squeezing till he stopped shivering. Once his body was warm enough to relax, Marco got comfortable, pacing his breaths with Jean's until the both of them fell asleep for the last time that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty quick for an update, but I think I got a big enough reaction to go ahead and get the real story started. Like I said, the pacing of this story is a bit quicker than my usual work, but hopefully everyone's keeping up?
> 
> So like, they were pretty naughty in this chapter. All that illegal stuff and whatnot. But you kind of have to accept that this kind of stuff happens. I myself had a rather mystical experience like Marco's at my first party. (I'm eighteen too, go figure.) I too puked my guts out for hours. Everyone that gives drinking a go does it at least once though, so at least now I know where my limit is. And I'm pretty heavy-weight for my size, apparently. If you haven't gone drinking before, here is my warning; Beware jello shots. They may seem harmless enough, but they are typically a full shot of vodka, and they'll mess you up right quick. And my other warning; Go with someone you trust, and you know will take care of you. My night could have been a lot worse without a certain someone looking after my sorry ass.
> 
> Alright, well, I'm a busy gal. I must get back to work on something or other, so until next time, adieu! Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated!
> 
> KuroRiya
> 
> 九六りや


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank everyone for the support and feedback thus far. I'm glad you guys are liking it!

Waking up took a long time. While his mind started running consciously, his body was putting up a lot of protest. It was several minutes before he could move any part of himself. Even then, it was sluggish and ridiculously slow. He finally forced his eyes open, blinking blearily at whatever was in front of him. It was a pale peachy color and, as he eventually noticed, it was moving minutely.

It was Jean's collar, he put together, the movement was his breath. It took him even longer than that to fully realize what that meant. And then he was feeling everything. He could feel the other teen's breath, his warm arm draped over his waist, his legs trapped between Marco's own. His face got hot. These things could only add up to one conclusion; He'd slept with Jean.

He started thinking through the night's events, trying not to move. He didn't think he was ready to deal with Jean just yet. But the party was hazy at best. It was coming to him in snippets. The earlier parts were pretty clear. He remembered arriving with Jean, remembered the first four or so drinks he had, but then it started to static in his mind. He recalled talking to a few people, remembered going out back with Jean. He remembered smoking.

Marco groaned lowly, bringing a hand up to scrub across his face. He'd smoked! Weed! What on earth had he been thinking? As if the drinking wasn't bad enough! What would his mother say? He knew better than that, and yet…

Deciding to think about it later, he returned to trying to replay the night. They'd come back inside, and he remembered throwing up a lot. But not much else was coming to mind. Well, nothing he was willing to believe.

There was this nagging image of him making out with Jean on the couch. Playing it through his mind, he could almost remember the taste of the other boy. But he refused to trust the memory. It might have just been his mind implanting things it wanted to see. After all, why would Jean kiss him? He wasn't cool, or punk, or even attractive. He was just that good student with too many freckles and a kind heart. Nothing more, maybe less.

But how he wished it was a real memory. All he could do, really, would be to ask Jean about it. If they both had the memory, then it had happened. But what if he didn't have the same memory? Then it would be pretty obvious that Marco was harboring feelings. And that would, almost certainly, ruin any relationship they currently had, platonic or not.

He fretted silently until Jean began stirring. He was a much noisier person in the morning, waking with many sighs and groans, and a bit of curling back into the warmth of the blankets. Marco bit his lip, trying to fight down a smile, failing. Jean was really, dare he say it, cute when he was waking up.

The teen finally opened his eyes after a long yawn, blinking groggily at Marco. He winced though, closing them quickly. A whine came deep from his chest, and Marco's brows furrowed.

"A-Are you okay?" He wondered, debating on sitting up. But Jean nodded slowly, which calmed his fears a little.

"Just hungover." He supplied, voice quiet, as if he was scared his own voice would agitate the headache further. Marco only frowned, bringing a hand up to his forehead, stupidly checking for a fever. He didn't know why he did it, but it was the only motion he could remember from the many times he'd cared for sick siblings. Jean was a little clammy, but not feverish. Of course not; it was just a hangover.

"Fuuuuuck." He whined, and Marco's stomach dropped. He didn't know what to do, and hated that. "Don't you have one too?" Jean demanded, cracking a single eye. Marco jumped, but eventually shook his head.

"Um, I don't think so?" He supplied, taking a moment to gauge any pain, finding nothing besides a bit of dry mouth and a slightly queasy stomach. Jean only let out another groan.

"Fucking freckled asshole." He groused, and Marco forced himself to stifle a nervous laugh. "I'm so sure you don't have a hangover. Why would I even think you would? Of course not. You're fucking perfect." He snapped, and Marco wasn't sure whether to be offended, or to take it as a compliment.

It was quiet for a long moment, a moment in which Marco realized he was still tangled up in Jean's arms. But neither made a move to disengage, so the silence continued. Jean finally sighed, shifting to lie on his side instead, drawing Marco closer. The darker teen made a noise of surprise but went without much protest. They settled again, just breathing for a long time.

"Give me a few minutes. I'm a bear without coffee on a good day. This is not a good day." He grumbled, burying his nose in Marco's collarbone. Marco only giggled, letting Jean cuddle as he pleased. There was a little noise of distress from the two-toned boy. "Alright, well, it's not a totally bad day. I mean, it's the weekend, so at least I don't have to haul my ass to school. And Reiner's beds are really comfortable." He began, counting on his fingers even though Marco couldn't see.

"And I woke up with you, so that makes it a pretty good day, actually." He decided. Marco's face flushed, and he was sure Jean could feel the feverish blush spreading across his chest too. What did that mean? Probably not what Marco wanted it to.

They lay still for a while, just basking in warm covers and weekend laziness, and the company. Then there was a light tapping at the door, and someone opened the it without waiting for a reply. It was Reiner, and Marco recognized Bertholdt behind him.

"Hey, you guys are already up?" He asked, looking at both boys who'd lifted their heads to see who was intruding. Marco nodded, smiling shyly. "Great. It's about eleven, so you might want to head out. But grab some breakfast before you go. Bertl made too much." He announced, and the man behind him started to sweat nervously. Or maybe it was from embarrassment? Well, he was sweating, regardless. They took their leave when Jean made some strange, guttural noise in their general direction, shooting Marco a glance that let him know fully well that they did not envy his position.

He laughed after they'd left, fluffing Jean's hair a bit while he could, knowing he'd probably never get another chance. Then he gasped, sitting up too quickly, making himself dizzy. Jean looked at him with surprise and concern as he began wrestling with the sheets, trying to untangle himself and get to the floor.

"Babe? What are you doing?" Jean asked. And Marco was too preoccupied to think much about the residual pet name.

"I need to call my mom! I told her I'd be home last night!" He exclaimed, almost to the edge of the bed. Jean sighed, hooking an arm around his hips and tugging him back.

"I called her last night." Jean said quickly, before Marco could start to struggle. This earned him the attention of the freckled teen. "While you were sleeping in the bathroom. I told her that we left early because it was boring, and you fell asleep watching a movie at my house." He explained.

Marco let it sink in, frowning. He didn't like lying to his mother, which he'd done, by proxy. He couldn't tell her that Jean had lied, though. That wouldn't bode well in the Bodt house. To be honest though, he was kind of glad that Jean had taken care of it. What would he have told his mother? The truth was a little too scary.

He burrowed into the covers, already tired of trying to think through it. He rarely lied to anyone, so just this once wouldn't kill him, right?

Jean hummed approvingly, scooting closer and wrapping himself around the burrito that Marco had become, cackling when Marco started struggling to no avail. They eventually fell still again, both laughing and panting for breath. Jean rolled off when it started to get awkward, and Marco emerged from his cocoon, standing up on the carpeted floor. It felt strange to be in only his boxers, but he tried to make his rushing movements towards his clothes look casual. He was still done pulling his clothes on before Jean was even done buttoning up his pants. In his defense, jeans that skinny were probably hard to get into.

Marco stared, unable to pull his eyes away. He hadn't had the coherency to really look at Jean the night before, and he'd definitely missed out. Jean was, simply put, incredibly attractive. At least by Marco's standards. He was lean, pale, lanky, and bony. Maybe that was bad for some people, but Marco ate it up. He blushed at the nipple and navel piercings. Mostly the nipples though. Jean reached for his shirt, and Marco eyed his back, curiosity piqued.

"Jean?" He called, and the boy made a noise to affirm he was listening. "Does that tattoo mean something?" He wondered. Jean glanced over his shoulder, looking first at Marco, then at the tattoo across his shoulder. He held off on putting his shirt on, beckoning Marco over, gesturing that he could take a closer look.

"I got it about a year ago." Jean began, and Marco listened with rapt attention. "My mom died in a car accident. Well, I say accident…" He trailed, sighing. "Anyway, I got this for her." He offered. Marco frowned, hesitating as he brought his hand up, finally working up the courage to trace his fingers over the inked lines. It was pretty, as far as tattoos went. A hummingbird surrounded by irises. And it struck Marco as a little feminine for Jean's personality. But it also warmed his heart, to know that Jean cared for someone so much that he'd do something like that for them. The tattoo represented his mother, not himself, and Marco could easily tell. Perhaps that was the point.

"Any tats, big guy?" Jean asked cheekily, obviously trying to alleviate some of the darkness that had set in between them. Marco flinched.

"Definitely not!" He replied quickly. Jean only barked a laugh.

"I can't say I'm surprised. Never get one drunk." He cautioned, and Marco raised a brow. Jean only sighed, shaking his head as he lifted one of his feet, using the bed to steady himself. Marco quirked a brow, looking at the foot that Jean had raised. It took him a moment, but he finally found what he was supposed to be looking at, etched into the bottom of the foot. And it looked, suspiciously, like a pony. He snorted.

"Is that…" He began, cut off by Jean who slammed his foot down, face red with embarrassment.

"Yes, it's a fucking My Little Pony tattoo, and I don't want to talk about it. Fruity drinks are not a good idea for me." He spat, Marco only able to snicker as Jean finished dressing. "Couldn't walk straight for weeks..." He grumbled under his breath, only earning more giggles from his companion.

"Well, that's interesting." Marco pointed out. "Kind of a juxtaposition, you know? So many chains, and then ponies on your foot. " He giggled, trying to stifle it and failing utterly. Jean only grumbled, shoving him gently as they collected their things and headed downstairs.

"At least we know you have a pretty high tolerance." Jean suggested, not-so-tactfully changing the subject as he focused on walking down the stairs, Marco hot on his heels. The taller teen quirked a brow at the news.

"I do?" He wondered, voice properly mystified. Jean snorted.

"Do you even know how much you threw back last night?" He demanded. Marco smiled sheepishly, shaking his head. Jean sighed. "Of course not. Freckled perfect asshole." He groused. Marco's eyes widened.

"H-How much did I drink?" He inquired. Jean scoffed, cuffing him over the head.

"More than I should have let you." Was the only reply he got before they'd found the kitchen. It was much tidier, lacking the sea of liquor bottles from the night before. Instead, there was a hearty breakfast, still steaming and looking positively amazing. Bertholdt smiled at them as they entered, gesturing towards the table, which Jean quickly took a seat at. Marco was a bit more hesitant, but eventually sat down as well, taking a plate that was handed to him and taking some of the prepared dishes. He noticed that Jean took his eggs sunny side up, whereas Marco himself preferred them scrambled. Luckily Bertholdt had made both, as well as fried eggs, and one had been cooked into a piece of toast, but that had already been claimed by another plate.

Jean took bacon that was slightly burned, and Marco reached for the pieces that didn't have any black around the edges. Jean buttered his toast, Marco used Jam. Jean took apple slices when Marco reached for the strawberries. And, somehow, Marco was loving the differences. Even such little things set them apart, made Jean almost an alien. That was what Marco found exciting about him though.

Everyone in his family ate like he did. They would have taken scrambled, and strawberries. But Jean wouldn't. And that was interesting. Just like the tattoo. Just like the clothes and his personality. Jean was interesting. Of course, the strange maybe-memory Marco had of them kissing was interesting too, but he was still a little too scared to bring that up.

Bertholdt handed Jean a mug of coffee, then turned to Marco.

"What would you like to drink?" He wondered, offering a friendly, but still nervous, smile. Marco smiled wholeheartedly at the other, hoping to put him at some kind of ease, to no avail.

"Orange juice would be great, if you have it." He replied. Bertholdt nodded, going to the fridge to get the drink for him. Then he sat with the other two, eventually followed by Reiner who sat in front of the plate with the bird in the nest, and a few other people that Marco had a blurry recognition of. And they all ate, and a bit of conversation was traded. (Most of it consisted of grunts and groans, since apparently everyone but Marco and Bertholdt were hungover, but it was conversation nonetheless.)

After breakfast and helping out with cleanup, they said their goodbyes and received Jean's keys from Bertholdt. It was just after noon, and Marco frowned. His mother would have questions, and he knew he didn't want to deal with them. But he didn't really have any other choice. He couldn't just avoid his family for the rest of eternity.

But even scarier than talking to his mother was the idea of talking to Jean. This memory he had was driving him insane, and it seemed to be all he could think about. But what if it was a false memory? What would Jean think? And what if Jean didn't want to acknowledge it? He'd been drunk, and therefore didn't technically have to own up to his actions. He could simply claim he was drunk, and Marco had been close.

"What're you fretting about, babe?" Jean asked, drawing Marco from his thoughts. The boy pursed his lips, forcing his eyes to remain on the scenery passing by his window. There it was again, that pet name. Did it mean something? Or was that simply Jean's way of talking? Marco had met people that simply called everyone by pet names before, and Jean could easily be one of them. Yet it hadn't appeared until the night before, though Marco couldn't pinpoint when exactly. It felt flirty, but was it intentional?

"Um… Nothing, just thinking about last night." He replied, purposefully vague. Jean shot him a quick look.

"Which part of last night?" He prompted. If he had to pull teeth…

Marco frowned, heart speeding up beyond his comfort zone.

"U-Uh… Right before I threw up?" He replied quietly. Jean took a moment to process it, and Marco could practically hear the wheels in his head turning as he went through the night's events. It seemed to click, at last, and Marco winced when Jean pulled into some empty parking lot they were about to pass. He parked the car sloppily, then turned to look at Marco seriously.

"Alright, I'm going to assume I know what you're talking about." He began. Marco got the feeling he did. "I'm sorry for coming onto you like that when you were messed up. That wasn't fair of me." He offered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not usually that much of an asshole. I was pretty messed up too, and you looked really fucking wonderful last night. I know that isn't an excuse or anything, but, uh… Fuck, I'm bad at talking." He growled, biting his lip for a few seconds before turning to Marco again.

"Uh… Do you want to, you know, date?" He asked, pale face already getting red. Marco thought it looked a little silly with all of the metal the boy had in his face, but forced himself to remember what was important.

Jean was, dare he think it, asking him out? His heart lurched as he thought of how very possible it could be that this was all some elaborate prank. But Jean seemed really earnest, if he was being honest. But then there was the question of how Marco should respond. Sure, he liked Jean, but was it really in that way? He'd never thought of liking a boy as more than a friend. He tried to imagine himself on a date with Jean, and pictured some cheesy dinner and movie deal in his head, and it warmed him to the core.

And he'd liked kissing Jean the night before. He'd like to do it again, if he was being truthful. So that, surely, meant that he liked Jean enough to date, right? What other conclusion could he come to? And what was he fretting about in the first place? Agreeing to go out didn't mean he was eternally devoted to someone!

Jean's face seemed to fall with each passing second, so Marco quickly nodded.

"S-Sure!" He finally agreed. Jean initially winced, but then he seemed to realize what Marco had actually said, and his face lit up.

"Really?" He demanded, a grin already taking over his face. Marco nodded shyly with a smile of his own.

"As long as you don't mind my inexperience." He offered, his own cheeks beginning to feel warm as he admitted to his lack of relationship knowledge. Jean only grinned wider.

"You assume everyone has a lot of it." He murmured, and Marco blinked at him owlishly.

"You've never dated?" He wondered, and Jean scoffed.

"Of course I have! But you're not the only person that hasn't." He explained. Marco smiled, looking down at his lap.

"Yeah, I guess not. Everyone has to start somewhere." He agreed. Jean nodded, reaching over and stealing a hand from Marco's lap, eyes tracing patterns in the freckles for a moment before dropping it between them.

"You should have seen me on my first date. It was her first too, and we had no idea what we were doing." Jean recounted, shuddering at the thought. "Let's just say that that was an awkward breakup. But we'll go at your pace. If it feels too fast, just let me know, and I'll slow down, okay? You're going to have to teach me your boundaries, but I'll do my best to learn them." He promised, and Marco smiled.

"Well, the same goes for you. If I'm being too slow or something, tell me. I can be a little dense sometimes." He said sheepishly, glancing down at their linked hands. Jean was silent, and Marco, out of curiosity, looked up to see if something was amiss. He jumped as he felt lips against his, but they were gone as quickly as they'd come, too fast for him to even register the little metal studs poking out from under Jean's bottom lip against his skin. He couldn't speak.

Jean grinned, letting go of his hand to properly devote himself to driving again, pulling back onto the road and heading for Marco's house. The freckled teen lost himself in daydreams about all of the possible dates he and Jean could go on, of all the ways he could earn different kinds of kisses, or hugs, or hand-holding. Then he thought of something.

"Jean, do you still want me to tutor you?" He wondered. Jean spared him a glance.

"Uh, yeah? I really do need the help. That wasn't just a ruse to get you to date me." He replied, and Marco giggled, a bit nervous. "Well, not entirely." He added.

"Huh?" Marco looked to Jean for answers, seeing the embarrassment on the teen's face. Jean was quiet for a while.

"…Well… It's not like I planned it or anything. I really had no intention of going to class or sitting next to you or anything. It just kind of happened. But I knew who you were when I sat next to you." He offered. Marco's eyes widened.

"You knew me already?" He wondered. Jean laughed.

"You're a pretty admirable student, you know? You get really high marks, and are on honor rolls and stuff. But I knew you because I'd seen you watching me." He offered. Marco flushed, not realizing someone had noticed at all. And Jean himself? He wanted to hide in a hole for a few months.

"You'd always stare anytime I passed. I mean, a lot of people did, but you looked at me differently than anyone else. I never really felt like you were scared of me, or like you thought I was cool. You just seemed interested." He offered, shrugging. Marco flushed, looking out the window. Jean could be pretty observant, apparently.

"I was pretty surprised you let me cheat." He admitted, and Marco winced. "But I'm glad you did. My grade aside, it gave me an excuse to talk to you." He explained. The freckled teen sighed, trying to push that to the back of his mind. He was still in denial that he'd helped someone cheat, even if it was Jean.

"You were sassy." Jean recalled, smirking. Marco turned to him quickly, brows furrowed as he tried to remember. "You said something like 'If you came to class, you'd know about tests," I think." He reminded, laughing. "I never expected that from you. You looked kind of… Timid. But that made me curious about you too."

Marco smiled. Sassy wasn't a word he was described with often, but if it's what got Jean to agree to tutoring, then so be it.

"And then you started tutoring me, and you're fucking brilliant, Bodt. Your family is awesome too." He announced, and Marco flushed.

"Seriously? I was so worried they'd scared you off!" Marco groaned. Jean shook his head.

"No, I adore them." He assured him, voice low and conspiratorial for a moment. Then he went sober again. "They're… Well, like I said, my mom's gone. And my dad… We uh… We don't get along so well. I know, stereotypical punk upbringing, right? He doesn't hit me or anything, we just don't have the same views, and it causes some issues between us. We end up yelling at each other most nights, since neither of us will back off, and I've run off a few times before. I usually end up over at Reiner's place." He explained. "So, anyway, your family is amazing compared to that." He concluded.

Marco frowned, taking in the new information and processing all it meant. It meant a lot. He could only guess what Jean and his father argued about, but it wasn't something he was going to ask about. Jean had a right to his privacy. If he wanted to talk about it, Marco would listen. But if not, then Marco wasn't going to push it.

"You're always welcome at our house, Jean." Marco announced softly, hesitantly leaning over and pecking the teen on the cheek. He liked how fast Jean's face went entirely red, even his ears.

"T-Thanks." Was the reply, but that was plenty for Marco. "Uh… Mind if I hang out for a bit longer today, then?" He asked, hope in his voice. Marco realized that they'd just pulled along the curb in front of his house. He smiled warmly, nodding.

"Of course not! Come on!" He encouraged, opening his door and getting out, waiting for Jean to kill the engine and join him, stealing his hand as they walked up the steps to the front door. He could feel Jean's hesitance at this, and he wondered why. Jean was looking straight at his house, eyes darting to each window, as if looking for someone. And Marco decided that he knew one of the things that Jean and his father didn't agree on.

He took the hand despite Jean's initial avoidance, holding it firmly in his, even after he'd let himself in. And he continued to hold it until his mother found them in the entryway trying to get their shoes off without letting go of each other. Jean pulled his hand away abruptly, eyes wide. But Mrs. Bodt paid it no mind, wrapping first Marco, then Jean in a hug, and shooing the boys upstairs with a knowing look. And he loved his mother just a little bit more that day, and he thought Jean probably did too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a more typical wait for one of my chapters. It can be longer or shorter, depending on how productive I'm being at the time. But my rule for this story is a little different. I'm actually working on finishing chapter 9 as I post this, but I'm not letting myself post these chapters until I update another one of my stories. So I updated Violet Eyes today, meaning I got to post chapter three of this. Once I get an update out for What Lies Beyond the Walls, I can post chapter four.
> 
> But still, I'd say 2 and a half to three weeks is the most you'll ever wait. I'm kind of busy with Finals, but after I finish at school, I'll have a lot more free time to write, so these should come out a bit faster. This story just warms my heart a lot, so I can't put it down. Even when I'm in class I'm thinking about writing another chapter.
> 
> I'm just going to warn you guys, this is going to be the mushiest, teenageriest, gooiest shit I've written in a long time. Like, cuddle puddles and tickle wars and a general state of homos being happy and in love and canoodling. So like, don't take this too seriously. Yeah, Jean has a few family issues, but that isn't the focus of the story. So if you're expecting a sudden character death or something, you're looking in all the wrong places.
> 
> That said, I think we all need a break from the sad JeanMarco stuff. A good round of Punk!Jean being a total love bucket is something everyone needs, in my opinion. So if you're still up for it, I'll see you next time! As always, feedback is always appreciated!
> 
> KuroRiya
> 
> 九六りや


	4. Chapter 4

Dating Jean was… Different.

Granted, Marco didn't really have anything to compare it to, so that probably wasn't a fair observation. But he'd never experienced anything close to the ensuing weeks he spent with Jean.

At first, it was mostly about figuring out boundaries and learning more about each other. After all, they really didn't know each other very well. A few days of tutoring and one party weren't really enough to say that they were close.

The first night that Jean stayed over was spent almost entirely on talking about themselves. Silly things, and not-so-silly things.

"Alright, then what's your favorite color?" Jean demanded, trying to get Marco to shut up. He was laughing after learning his new boyfriend had a soft spot for pink. After taking a moment to calm himself down, Marco replied easily.

"My favorite is blue. But… Uh, like, the darker blues. Royal blues. Aesthetically speaking, I like neutrals, earthy tones." He explained. Jean quirked a brow.

"Aesthetically speaking?" He scoffed, knocking the bigger boy over so that he fell down on his bed where they were currently having their powwow.

"Oh hush. My mom is an interior designer, of course I think about these things!" Marco groused, nudging the other in the ribs, grin in place. Jean returned the expression, flopping down next to his boyfriend and pecking his cheek before settling in.

Marco felt a blush raise to his cheeks, grin faltering in surprise, but growing as his mind registered the affection. He liked it a lot when Jean kissed him. More and more every time it happened, or so it seemed. And he was more than happy fill the spaces between Jean's fingers with his own.

"Okay, um… How about… Shit, it's hard to think of questions. Uh… What do you want to do? You know, like, for a career or whatever." Jean wondered, squeezing the long fingers between his. Marco bit his lip, the fingers of his free hand drumming against the mattress.

"I've been thinking about pediatrics, but I'm not one hundred percent sure. It's nice in theory, and I do like kids, but it's a lot of work, and I don't know if it's what I want to spend my life doing. But my family could use the money." He admitted. "We have so many mouths to feed…"

It was something that had, honestly, been on his mind a lot recently. After high school, real life was supposed to begin. That meant a job, that meant college. That meant bills, and apartments, and roommates, and hard times. It meant thinking about not only his own future, but that of the ones he loved. Maybe it wasn't fair for him to think of it as his responsibility, but he was truly worried about his family getting by. They'd never been particularly wealthy, and he could only imagine what would happen if one of his parents were to lose their jobs. He wished he could provide some kind of security.

Jean was quiet for a while, both of them just staring up at the ceiling, as if it might give them an idea for how to proceed.

"Hey," he finally began. Marco turned to look at him. "I know that everyone is always asking you about what you want to do when you grow up, and they expect you to have answers. But it's okay to not have everything figured out. I have no clue what I want to do with myself, but I'll probably figure it out sooner or later." He said, shrugging.

"You're still young, believe it or not. It feels like everything is important right now, but a few years down the road, I might stop bleaching half of my hair, and you might be a doctor, or you might be running a pet store in Detroit. Maybe I'll bleach half of my hair till I die. Who knows. But we have time to figure all of that out. Just take it one day at a time." He elaborated.

Marco stared in awe for a moment. At first it was simply because Jean had said so much at once, but then the contents of his words registered. Sure, he'd seen plenty of movies that said as much. Even other people had said the same thing; But hearing it from someone like Jean made it so much more important, so much more real. He couldn't help but smile, turning over on his side and nuzzling into the other boy's shoulder. Jean looked down at him, face red.

"Baby, what are you doing?" He wondered, looking away with embarrassment. Marco only smiled wider, craning his neck to kiss the very corner of Jean's lips.

"Thank you. I needed to hear that." He admitted. Jean huffed, turning over as well so he could wrap his arms around the other boy.

"Whatever. Just don't, you know, join the mafia or something, and I'm sure you'll be fine." He mumbled, making Marco laugh.

"I don't think you need to worry about me joining the mafia." He giggled.

"You are Italian." Jean pointed out, kissing the crown of his head. Marco couldn't help but roll his eyes, looking up at the other boy.

"It's not nice to stereotype." He chided, earning a scoff.

"Says the guy that assumed I'd be an asshole just because I wear ripped jeans and spiked bracelets." Jean retorted.

"Oh, hush. You didn't exactly exude friendliness, I'll have you know. I thought you'd kill me if I didn't let you cheat!" Marco recalled.

"Uh, no. I'd probably have just sweated a lot and cried a little." Jean offered. Marco snorted, unable to hold back his laughter with that image in his head.

"I think you'd be cute when you're nervous!" He announced, making Jean groan.

"I'm not cute! I'm manly as hell!" He argued, scowling. That only made Marco's grin go coy.

"Oh, excuse me manly Mr. Kirstein." He offered sarcastically, holding out his vowels a little. "Well, I have to admit, your name sounds pretty manly."

"Damn right it does!" Jean agreed happily.

"The last name anyway. Jean is debatable." Marco added, smiling brightly, as if he hadn't just totally stomped on Jean's glee.

"No man, it's totally manly. As long as you pronounce it right, anyway." He grumbled. Marco opened his mouth, but Jean cut him off. "Don't you dare say 'Gene' I will murder you right here and now." He warned. Marco promptly shut his mouth, trying to fight down his snickering.

"Don't think I won't do it just cause you're cute." Jean threatened, staring the other boy down. Marco only smiled, stealing a quick little kiss before snuggling up, tangling their legs together. He'd always thought his legs were too long and awkward for his own good, but they fit perfectly with Jean's, so maybe he'd learn to appreciate them, with time.

They cuddled for a while, until Mrs. Bodt called them down for supper. She eyed them as they came down, her stare hard enough that they both started to believe that she knew every single thing that had happened, and would someday happen, in that room. Apparently she deemed their previous activities acceptable though, for she finally leveled them with a smile and ushered them into their seats.

In the time that they'd been dating, which was just over a week, Jean had only missed dinner with the family twice. He'd started coming home with Marco, even going as far as to wait till he got out of any club activities so that they could go together. While Marco appreciated the ride, he was starting to worry that Jean might get in trouble with his father. After all, wasn't he worried?

Then again, Jean had mentioned not being on great terms with his father.

But Marco really had no idea what exactly the situation was. And now that it was on his mind, it was bothering him. He decided that, after dinner, he'd ask Jean about it. The other boy usually stayed for a couple of hours after eating anyway.

For the time being, he'd just enjoy the food and company. He was thankful that his family had taken to Jean so well. Marco had never dated anyone before, and most certainly not a boy. While his mother had shown immediate acceptance that first day when they'd come in together, he had been a bit worried about the rest of his family.

They hadn't really made an official announcement of their relationship status, but it was pretty obvious in the way that they acted around each other, and how frequently Jean visited. Marco wondered when they started catching on, but no one said anything. No one mentioned that Jean came over every day, and ate dinner with them, and disappeared up to Marco's room for several hours before reluctantly heading back to his own home.

No, his family just smiled, passed him a second helping of food, and hugged him when he left. Marco adored the way that Jean was starting to awkwardly hug them back. He adored the way that Jean was slowly becoming more open with his family, and his affection. He was relieved and glad that he could provide a place that Jean could feel comfortable in.

After dinner and a bit of ice cream, they climbed the stairs back up to Marco's room, getting cozy on the bed again. Marco let the good feelings from dinner linger for as long as he could stand, but eventually his curiosity won out.

"Um, Jean?" He prompted quietly. The boy squeezed his fingers to let him know he was listening.

"I was just wondering… Well, you know… You know my family pretty well at this point. I was just wondering if you'd tell me about yours." He asked, closing his eyes. Maybe he was scared of rebuke, or maybe he was scared of what he might hear. But Jean didn't get angry, he only sighed.

He didn't respond for a long time, and Marco was just about to apologize for bringing it up at all, when finally Jean cleared his throat.

"I… It's not something I really like to talk about, sweetheart. And there's honestly not much to say. But if you want to know, then that's only fair." He decided, free hand coming up to scratch at his head for a moment.

"Like I said, my mom died. It's just me and the old man now. He's not a great guy, by any standards. He's not an alcoholic, but he's as mean as one. He likes to fight with me about pretty much everything. Real nitpicky, you know? If my shoes aren't in a straight line, it's a fight. If I accidentally moved the couch out of place just a bit and the dent in the carpet shows, that's a fight." He explained, scrubbing his hand down his face.

"Mom used to tell him to back off, but now that she's gone… Well, it's just the two of us, and we go at it almost constantly. I'm old enough that I don't just sit back and take his shit, and that pisses him off worse than whatever I did. I guess that his obsession with perfection is what made the whole idea of rebellion so attractive to me. He hates it. I can't tell you how many times he's yelled at me for my hair, or my clothes, or something I've said. I don't share his opinions either, and that's something he can't stand. He's against pretty much everything you'd expect; Hates gay people, anyone who isn't white, women in power. You know, he's got oppression down to a T. And I'm, like, the opposite. I guess that's pretty obvious." He laughed, squeezing Marco's fingers again. .

"We used to get in shouting matches over it, and we actually threw a few punches once, but I'm over it at this point. It doesn't hurt my feelings like it used to. I realized that I can't change what he thinks, but he can't change me either. If that's how he wants to live, then so be it. I'll be out of that house as soon as next year, if I can help it. And if it gets to be too much, then I leave." He said simply.

"And I think, sometimes, he's finally starting to get it. Some days he's better. We can talk like normal people, and he might even smile at me or something. But most days he's worse. That's why I always come over here. Chances are he's raging up a storm at home, just waiting for me to get there so he can scream at me about how I'm never there." He admitted with a sigh of exasperation, pulling Marco's hand up to rest on his chest.

"I understand that he's had a tough time. He and I both loved mom a lot. He was driving when they got in the accident. There were some assholes fucking with them, trying to run them off the road. You can imagine my old man, I'm sure. As high-strung as he is, he was shouting and cursing at them the whole time instead of focusing on driving safely. They hit a sharp corner wrong, and ended up flipping the car. Mom died right before it caught on fire, thank god."

Marco swallowed thickly, turning over on his side. He rested one hand, still twined with Jean's, on the mattress between them. The other came to rest on the other boy's stomach. Jean took a moment to collect himself, breathing a little shakily. But he didn't cry.

"He-He uh… Blames himself, I'm sure. That's why I try not to get too mad at him, even when I know he's in the wrong. That's why I haven't left yet. When I do move out, he's going to be alone. Even though all he does is yell at me, at least I'm there, you know? I figure I can take it till I turn eighteen. Then he can get a cat or something." He mused, his free arm flopping over his face, covering his eyes.

Marco didn't say anything, only scooting closer and wrapping himself around Jean. He got a laugh as a reward.

"What are you doing, you dork?" Jean asked, hugging him closer regardless. Marco only hummed, kissing the slender neck before him.

"Giving you a koala hug. I thought you could use one." He replied. Jean laughed again, ruffling the dark hair on Marco's head and kissing his forehead.

"You're seriously a nerd." Was his response. But he didn't let go or push him away. So they just lay like that for a few minutes, until Marco thought enough time had passed to change the subject.

"Just remember, Jean; You can always come here. Anytime." He promised.

"Anytime?" Jean asked, as if for clarification.

"Anytime." Marco repeated, looking up into pretty amber eyes.

Jean had to take a moment to appreciate this freckled boy that had gone from a stranger to the most precious person in his life in a matter of days. When had this adoration begun? When had he started to love every dark lash framing those big brown eyes, every freckle upon sun kissed cheeks, every little curling of lips and every crinkling of his nose? Maybe he'd never pinpoint the exact moment, but he sure knew what feeling was starting to swell in his heart.

But saying anything could be dangerous. He knew that from experience. So he kept it to himself, at least for the time being. He settled for a shy kiss and another half hour of cuddling.

When it was time for him to head home, it was with much reluctance that he began collecting his things. Marco watched from his perch on the bed with a frown on his usually smiling lips. He hated to see Jean go too, especially now that he knew what he was going home to. And then it dawned on him.

"Um, Jean?" He prompted, getting the other teen's attention.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Well… Why don't you stay over?" He wondered, smiling in what he hoped was an inviting fashion. "It's a Friday anyway, so mom won't care." Jean turned to look at him from where he'd been shoving his textbooks into a backpack Marco had given him after he decided to take school seriously. He was quiet for a while, eyes wide. Then he grinned.

"You're a saint, sweetheart." He announced, taking a running leap and tackling Marco down onto the bed. The one in question giggled, doing his best to intercept the attack, but they still ended up sprawled against the bed, limbs tangled messily. "A genius saint." He breathed, kissing Marco who was pinned beneath him.

After they managed to extract themselves from not only the mattress, but each other, they headed down to give Mrs. Bodt the heads up. They earned a warning glance, but she agreed, promising to make extra breakfast for the guest in the morning. And she gave them rights to the living room for the night, so they decided to have a movie marathon.

They argued for a moment about whether popcorn or nachos were the appropriate movie food, eventually agreeing that they should just make both. Why not? They were growing teenage boys with endless stomachs, so what harm would it do?

Of course, about twenty minutes into their first movie, Marco's siblings decided to crash the party. It was apparently just too inviting for them to ignore, so instead of an impromptu date full of cuddling on the couch and watching sappy movies while making themselves sick on popcorn and nachos, they found themselves smushed together between five of Marco's brothers and sisters, all fighting over which movie to watch next, and who had eaten the last of the popcorn, and who got to sit on the couch next.

Marco thanked the heavens when his mother finally hustled his younger siblings upstairs after the third movie, claiming they were still young enough to have a midnight bedtime during the weekend. She threw the boys a knowing glance and wished them a good night.

Unfortunately, the young 'uns had finished off all of the popcorn. And the chips. And the pizza rolls. So they couldn't eat themselves sick, unless they planned on eating canned tuna or dog food. But they could still cuddle and watch sappy movies until they passed out. Thank god for Netflix and its endless supply of chick flicks.

Every time Marco would choose one, Jean would complain until about ten minutes in, and then he was entirely silent for the rest of the movie, watching intently. Marco thought it was cute, the way he'd almost cry when things went awry, and the way he suppressed a whoop at the end when everything worked out. Who would have thought that resident punk Jean Kirstein would like romantic comedies? Then again, who would have thought that resident punk Jean Kirstein would have a My Little Pony tattoo on the bottom of his foot? Clearly there was still a lot to learn about the boy Marco was dating.

About halfway through their seventh movie, Marco finally started to doze off, fighting to keep his eyes open, because it was starting to look like Jean was really going to cry. They were lying on the couch, Jean practically on top of Marco, head against his chest. It was the saddest part of the movie, and Marco was ready for it, watching his boyfriend's eyes carefully. But just as he thought a tear was going to slip out from Jean's closed eyes, he heard a soft snore.

With a scoff, he turned the movie off, contorting his arm a little to turn the lamp off and grab the blanket draped over the back of the couch. It took some doing, but he got it spread out over the two of them, and snuggled in for the night. He could tell his neck would be hurting in the morning, and probably his back too, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. This way, he got to feel Jean breathing against him, got to feel his heartbeat which sped up a bit on occasion as he began dreaming.

And he'd get to wake up in the morning to his face, probably grumpy, and know that he was safe, and that he wasn't spending the night screaming or being screamed at. He'd know he wasn't sleeping outside or knocking at Reiner's door at three in the morning. Because he was here, on the couch, dreaming about something that made his heart race and his lips pull up in an unconscious smile. And that was enough to let him rest easy, neck ache be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's chapter four! I just wanted to say thank you for all of the feedback thus far. You guys have been great, and I really appreciate it! If you like my writing, you might check out my EreMin story as well. I will warn you, it's not happy like this one. It involves some character death, and a lot of violence. But you know, if you need a break from all this fluff…
> 
> It has JeanMarco as a side pairing, but it is EreMin centric. And there's still fluff, because I'm a total sucker for the stuff. Just, you know, fluff and human sacrifice instead of fluff and dorky boyfriends. If you have the stomach for it, the story's called What Lies Beyond the Walls.
> 
> Since I'm so in love with this story, I figure I might as well claim a tag for it! I'll end up drawing for it, and I've already received a bit of fanart from my friend, so I'll post that sometime in the next couple of days. Anyway, I'll use the tag "fic tmttr" on tumblr. So if you have anything you want to post about this story, please tag it with that. I'm also open to questions and comments and friendship. My username is the same on tumblr for anyone that doesn't know~! And I'll post any random sidenotes/art/updates under that tag.
> 
> Alright, that's it for now, I think. Thanks, as always, for reading, and if you have time to leave a comment or review, please do! With love~!
> 
> KuroRiya  
> 九六りや


	5. Chapter 5

It didn't take long for word to get around school. Jean, as it would turn out, was very open about the whole thing, telling anyone who asked why he was holding Marco's hand, flat out, that they were dating. Marco was, honestly, surprised. He had sort of expected Jean to want to keep it hush hush. But he wasn't displeased. He was proud to have somehow caught the attention of infamous punk Jean Kirstein. After all, the boy was quite a catch, to say the least. According to the girls, badboy was a hot look. Ironically, Jean was one of the sweetest people he knew.

One day Marco got to his locker to find that it had been broken into. But, instead of finding something missing or something terrible waiting, or even a rude letter, he found a bouquet of daffodils and a note with naught but a little heart and Jean's name on it. Another day he found a box of chocolates had been slipped into his bag, which he discovered in the middle of lunch.

But no one could be convinced that it was really Jean that did these things. Even Armin was obviously doubting him. And, as much as he wished he could, Marco couldn't really get angry; Until recently, he'd been under the same impression that Jean was a rebellious asshole. And he was rebellious, sure, but he was anything but an asshole.

Their first actual date was an adventure Marco used to prove that point.

Jean insisted that they go out somewhere together, since they'd sort of skipped the formality by deciding to date after only a party together. In his opinion, that didn't count as a proper date, and he was determined to treat Marco to the experience. He shoved an embarrassed Marco into his car and drove them out to his favorite restaurant, hushing Marco as he worried about how expensive everything was. The first nicety of the night was Jean promising to pay for everything and not taking no for an answer.

Initially, Marco tried to order something inexpensive, but ended up sharing Jean's food at the other's insistence. Even though Marco promised that a salad was enough, Jean wasn't having any of it, and he even went as far as to order dessert. Marco never ordered a dessert at a restaurant. The cheesecake was delicious, but he felt bad about the bill that he managed to steal a peek at.

It seemed that Jean sensed Marco's discomfort with this high class treatment, as he opted to forgo his plans of taking him to a movie as well, taking them instead to the local park. He pulled into a spot, then opened Marco's door for him, taking his hand and leading him out of the car, kissing the back of his hand and wiggling his brows suggestively. That was enough to get Marco laughing at last, and he happily followed the other to the main trail.

Marco felt more in his element as they walked along the little paths, hands firmly connected between them and forms glowing in the waning sunlight. Living where they did, they received more than a few looks as they passed other people. Some were children lingering in their play, others were couples doing the same thing they were. Marco wished he could live somewhere else, somewhere a bit more accepting. The problem with the area was that the younger generation was, generally, rather accepting. But the older generation was about as discriminating as was possible. Homophobic, racist, anti-feminist… The whole nine yards.

Thankfully, they were almost done. Just one more year, and they could get away, if they wanted to. One more year and they wouldn't have to worry about getting a detention for kissing goodbye between classes, one more year and they wouldn't have to pass another couple making out as they were led to the principal to explain themselves. One more year and they wouldn't have to worry about being transferred to another class in the middle of the semester without an explanation, knowing it was because a teacher refused to work with them.

But it was reassuring that Jean would flip anyone that leered their way the bird, and that he'd sneer if they dared utter a homophobic slur. Marco had actually had to physically hold Jean back from attacking one of the P.E. teachers on one such occasion.

And, even though he was angry, Jean always came back down and pressed a kiss to Marco's cheek, or his nose, or his mouth, as if to promise that they'd always be together, no matter what anyone said. And Marco was starting to believe that it could be true, and that it would be the best possible outcome. His thoughts of a possible future were pretty nice ones, he had to admit.

Jean walked him around for a bit, till they came to the lake. Apparently that was the destination, as he plopped down under a tree, pulling Marco down to sit next to him. After getting situated, he pulled the brunette's head over to rest on his shoulder, lacing their fingers as they basked in the warm breeze coming off the shimmering water. They were quiet for a few minutes, then Jean sighed.

"Baby?" He prompted, waiting till he had Marco's attention. "Let me spoil you sometimes." He commanded, frowning. Marco opened his mouth to protest, but Jean cut him off.

"I know you aren't used to it, and I get that. But I do it because I want to, and I want to give you the world. Seeing you happy makes me happy, and I'd pay anything to see that." He explained. Marco shook his head.

"But you don't need to! Just spending time with you is enough for me." He scolded. Jean rolled his eyes.

"I know, I'm not stupid. But that doesn't keep me from wanting to do something nice for you on occasion. I'm just asking you to humor me, alright?" He asked. Marco sighed but nodded, snuggling back into the other boy's side.

"Alright, alright. But you have to kiss me lots to make up for it." He retorted, looking up with a pout. Jean smiled, doing just that. Marco finally let a smile break across his lips too, getting comfortable. Unfortunately, his shifting sent him lurching forward, and they bumped noses, Jean coming away with a hiss.

"Fuck, babe, ow." He whined, tenderly pressing at the piercing that went through the bridge of his nose. Marco frowned, pressing his lips to Jean's cheek.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" He promised, worry lacing his tone.

After a bit of grumbling, Jean waved him off, kissing him one more time before pulling him closer, as close as he could get without sitting in the other boy's lap.

"If you got a piercing, you'd understand." He said matter-of-factually. Marco grimaced.

"No thank you!" He replied quickly, sticking his tongue out. "I'd rather not have holes all over my body." He announced. Jean pouted.

"Aww, you don't like them?" He asked, all mock concern and jutting bottom lip. It looked a little funny with the piercings.

"Quit trying to pout with those… Uh… Lip piercings! Super not cute!" Marco laughed. Jean quirked a brow.

"You don't know what they're called, do you?" He questioned, and Marco shrugged, trying not to look guilty. Jean shook his head. "I'm disappointed." He announced, sighing dramatically.

After a moment, he pointed to the piercing in question.

"When they're under the lip like this, they're snake bites." He explained. "If they're in the middle, right here," he pointed to show Marco the correct position. "Then they're dolphin bites. Up top is angle bites, and there are canine bites, and shark bites, and pretty much everything you can think of. But I like them here." He explained. Marco nodded.

"I think they suit you." He agreed, getting up for a moment to sit on Jean's other side, taking the other hand and sighing as some of the pressure was taken off of his back. Jean shifted a bit too, doing his best to accommodate the new arrangement. "But I think the tongue is my favorite." He finally admitted.

"Oh?" Jean prompted, looking over at him coyly. Marco blushed, but nodded.

"Uh-huh. It definitely makes for interesting kisses." He offered. Jean grinned, taking that as his cue to press the other teen against the tree and slot their lips together, not hesitating to add his tongue into the mix, coaxing Marco's into playing too. They didn't pull apart until they were both seeing stars and had to sit back and just breathe for a few seconds.

"…Yup." Marco said, panting. "That one's definitely my favorite."

Jean laughed, knocking their heads together and holding that position, filling the spaces between Marco's fingers with his own.

They stayed under the tree until Marco was dozing off, but Jean gently shook him back into consciousness after a while. It took him a moment to register that he'd fallen asleep, and he looked around. The sun was out of view, but hadn't been down long. There was still a bit of bluish grey light filtering in through the clouds, and Marco was able to see everything with just enough detail to call it dusk.

Jean got up, hefting Marco to his feet as well. The taller teen quirked a brow as Jean began climbing the tree they'd been under, gesturing for Marco to follow. Despite his fear of heights, he did, carefully picking which limbs he'd trust with his weight. After a bit of shaking and regret, he managed to get to the same branch Jean had planted himself on, and carefully sat next to him, holding on to his boyfriend's arm to steady himself.

After a few seconds of trying to get comfortable despite the nervous butterflies fluttering about his stomach anytime he looked down or thought about where he was, he looked over at Jean.

"So, why'd we climb a tree in the park?" He wondered. Jean turned to him, rolling his eyes, the bright amber color visible even in the scant light.

"Why don't you look?" He wondered, pointing ahead of them, towards the lake. His bracelets clinked together with the motion, and Marco's eyes followed the sound.

He nearly gasped, eyes going wide as he took in the sight. There were thousands of fireflies flitting around the water, glowing in blinking patterns between blades of tall grass. He watched them dance across the surface, transfixed for a moment.

"I thought you might like to see them." Jean offered quietly. Marco tore his eyes away, giving his boyfriend a blinding smile.

"How do you already know me so well?" He wondered, cautiously removing one of his hands from where he'd been tightly clenching the branch and finding Jean's, lacing their fingers. Jean offered him a grin, leaning over for a kiss.

"You and I were just meant to be." He replied. Marco was about to swoon at how sweet that was, but then realized that that sounded a little familiar, especially with the way Jean said it, sort of sing-songy.

"…Did you seriously just quote Frozen?" He demanded, quirking a brow. Jean's eyes widened.

"Wha-No! Er… I didn't know you'd seen it…" He mumbled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. Marco barked a laugh, nudging the other teen.

"Well, I did. With my little sisters. You could have at least used a Kristoff line instead of Hans." He admonished. Jean sighed and shrugged, and Marco opted to let it go for the time being.

They watched the fireflies for a few minutes, till it started to get too dark for them to safely attempt to maneuver their way down a tree, so they headed down with what little light they had left, Jean having to catch Marco when his knees buckled after jumping off of the last branch.

Marco laughed, hugging Jean instead of standing up properly. The other teen made a noise of protest, but accepted the affection nonetheless. When Marco pulled away, Jean gave him a coy grin.

"I could kiss you right now." He said.

Marco furrowed his brows. Jean had never asked permission before, and he should know by now that he didn't need it…

"I could. I mean, I'd like to." He continued. "May I? We me? I mean may we?"

Realization dawned on Marco's face, and he had never rolled his eyes so hard.

"Wait, what?" Jean finished, looking properly nervous. Marco finally graced him with a smile, leaning in for a kiss.

"We may." He breathed. Jean frowned though.

"Hey, no, you're supposed to kiss me on the cheek." He griped, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You are such a loser Jean, oh my gosh. And you tried to deny that you'd seen it?" Marco quipped, playfully shoving the other in the shoulder. "I went with my sisters. What's your excuse?" He wondered. Jean's face went red, and he began walking away.

"None of your business, Freckles." He called. Marco laughed, chasing after him.

"Come on, spill!" He giggled, catching up and capturing the shorter male's arm. Jean was practically glowing red, but still he let his boyfriend twine their fingers.

"Jesus! I'm just a hardcore Disney fan, alright?" He huffed. "I see all of their shit." He added.

Marco grinned, looking over at him smugly.

"You went by yourself, didn't you?" He asked, but it wasn't really much of a question.

"NO!" Jean cried, looking incredibly offended. "Only losers go to movies by themselves!" He added. Marco smirked, looking at him pointedly. "No way! I totally went with… With my girlfriend! My totally super-hot girlfriend who was twenty times more attractive than anyone else except you because you're special but she was still pretty hot for a chick, with like, boobs and stuff, and-" He rambled, but Marco cut him off, smiling and kissing his cheek.

"Okay, big guy." He laughed, voice still playfully condescending. "I'm sure your fake girlfriend was super-hot, with her boobs and stuff. Are you sure you're not 100% gay, because wow… Boobs and stuff…" He giggled. Jean only sighed, slowing his pace so they could walk back comfortably. "I don't mind. I like Disney too. Mulan is my favorite." He offered, since it seemed Jean had no retorts. Jean scoffed.

"Mulan is everyone's favorite." He pointed out.

They proceeded to get into a heated debate about which Disney Princess was the best. Jean ended up winning that argument by threatening not to drive Marco home if he didn't agree that Kida was the best. They decided it was time to have a Disney marathon, and that a sleepover was in order.

When they got to Marco's house, they received a scolding from Mrs. Bodt. Apparently they were being too loud. It wasn't their fault that they'd accidentally fallen over in the doorway and knocked a bowl of potpourri all over the floor. It also wasn't their fault that everyone else in the house went to bed at a normal hour. Sleep is for the weak.

After getting the dried petals all picked up, they scurried into the living room, and Marco got to work setting up the dvd player, pointing Jean to the family movie collection.

By the time he'd gotten the equipment up and running, Jean had picked their first movie of the night. Tarzan was apparently first on the list. Well, at least it wasn't a Princess movie. That's what Marco had to remind himself as he put it in, heading into the kitchen and trying to make popcorn quietly. That went about as well as one might expect.

While he was in the kitchen, Jean made himself busy with taking off his bracelets, and he stripped off his outermost layers of clothes, keeping on only what he needed to remain decent. When Marco returned, he followed suit, handing Jean the bowl so he could remove the excess clothing. Once they were both adequately in mild states of undress and sporting rumpled hair, he plopped down on the couch, remote in hand.

With a bowl of food between them and feet busy playing socked footsie, Marco hit play on the remote and got cozy, knowing he was in for a hell of a night.

They were about halfway through Brother Bear, the fourth movie, when Jean pulled on Marco's earlobe, effectively getting his attention.

"Babe?" He began. Marco shifted to better face him. Any time Jean started with 'Babe?' it meant Marco was in for a long conversation.

"Yeah?" He prompted, muting the movie.

"Uh… Well, you know, the school year's almost over." He pointed out. Marco quirked a brow, nodding.

"Um, sure, if four months is almost the end of the school year. Do we need to start studying for finals soon?" He inquired, frowning. Jean groaned.

"That's not even remotely what I'm getting at." He complained.

Marco rolled his eyes, but waited for Jean to continue instead of offering his own conversation.

"I mean… Have you thought about, you know… Prom?" Jean asked, voice getting quieter as he spoke.

Oh, right. That was a thing. Marco had nearly forgotten about the infamous rite of passage. Prom.

"Er… Not really, no." He admitted. It was the truth. Prom hadn't crossed his mind in months. The only reason he ever thought of it was if his friends brought it up, which was pretty rare. Not many of his friends seemed very excited about it, to be honest.

"Oh." Jean breathed, looking, dare Marco say it, disappointed? The freckled boy blinked.

"Um… Why?" He wondered, nudging Jean with his foot. Jean's face went red, and he seemed to sink into his little blanket cape, shoulders going up to hide as much of his face in plush as he could manage.

"I just… I was just wondering if… You know… You wanted to go?" He finally managed, looking up at Marco. "With, uh, me?" He added, for clarification.

It took a few seconds for Marco's mind to put that together, but a grin lit up his face when it did. He promptly launched himself across the couch, landing on Jean who groaned, the wind knocked right out of him.

He never said yes, but Jean took the flurry of kisses to be equivalent, laughing and meeting the kisses until he couldn't breathe. Then they settled down, cuddling up together and returning their attention to the movie. Too lazy to reach for the remote, they ended up watching it on mute, providing their own voices until Marco fell asleep, snoring softly with his nose pressed into Jean's neck.

The younger teen did a bit of shifting, tugging the blanket out from underneath his body with no small amount of effort. Once it had been freed, he pulled it over the two of them, repositioning Marco a bit so that he wasn't totally being crushed under the bigger boy's weight.

Marco stirred a bit, mumbling sleepily and rolling over, laying on his side next to Jean instead of on top of him. That ended up being better, and Jean readjusted the blanket, slotting his legs between Marco's and snuggling up, tucking the other's head under his chin, almost sneezing when soft black locks tickled at his nose.

It made him smile, and he sighed happily, taking a moment to breathe in the lingering smell of Marco's shampoo. It smelled a bit sharp, and he could tell it was probably some cheap off-brand. And, as he thought about it, he remembered that there was only one set of soaps in the bathroom. So everyone in the family used the same things.

Sometimes he forgot that Marco's family wasn't very well off. They were all so happy, and open, and accepting. It just felt like they were rich. He hoped that he'd learn to live that way too. Maybe Marco could make that change in him, with time. Maybe he could be rich too.

He'd just have to wait and see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again friends~! As always, a big thanks to everyone reading, and I really appreciate all of the feedback I've gotten so far. I was actually surprised how well this story has been doing already, and I hope you can all continue to enjoy it.
> 
> This chapter was sort of low-key, at least in my opinion. The chapters following this one are a bit more eventful. But I wanted to give these dorks a chance to bond, you know?
> 
> So, if you can't tell, I'm a Disney whore. Like, when my whole family goes to the movies, and we're trying to pick out a movie, I will literally always pick whatever Disney movie is in. My little brother and sister are like "let's go watch the Hunger Games!" or "Let's go see this superhero movie!" And I'm like "Let's go watch Frozen for the third time!" And I marathon either anime or Disney movies whenever I sew. Lilo and Stitch is my personal favorite~! I'd love to hear about your favorites too.
> 
> Like I mentioned in the last chapter, anything I post on tumblr related to this story goes under fic tmttr. You guys are free to post stuff there too, if it's related. Like, if you have questions or comments, or want to draw something, stuff like that. (Someday I will earn fanart, mark my words!) And if you wanna say hi on tumblr, my username is the same; KuroRiya.
> 
> Alrighty, off I go, to write more JeanMarco. I had two wonderful ideas today, and I think some oneshots are in order! Thanks, as always, for reading. And if you have the time, feedback is appreciated!
> 
> KuroRiya  
> 九六りや


	6. Chapter 6

They ended up forgetting about prom after that. It slipped from their minds somewhere between waking up to Marco's brother perched on top of them, claiming they had slept naked on the couch despite the fact that they had both retained their boxers, and getting their sorry asses to school. Or maybe it was that first class, Statistics, that did it.

Whatever the reason, neither of them recalled the conversation from the previous night. It wasn't that it was unimportant, it just wasn't urgent. Prom wasn't for a couple months yet, so there was no sense in fretting about it then anyway. They went about their daily business, stealing more than a few kisses in the days that passed.

It wasn't until Armin started talking about it at lunch a few weeks later that Marco remembered.

"Uh-huh, I'm still trying to convince Eren that pastel blue would be the best color to wear." He explained to the entire lunch table. "I've already got my outfit picked out. Tuxes are a little too stuffy for me, but Eren wants to get one. But when I told him it needed to be pastel blue to match me, he started grumbling!" He complained, frowning.

Marco smiled at his friend, making note of his attire. On that day, it consisted of a huge pastel blue sweater, a black shirt peeking out from a few heart shaped holes in the fabric, with a pair of creamy pink leggings. And his fingers were painted to match the leggings. While Marco had never quite grasped Armin's style, he could appreciate it. Armin was cute enough to pull it off. And Marco had always had a weakness for those black platform boots that Armin was wearing. They were his favorites. The boy was just lucky that Eren Jaeger was more than willing to stand up to anyone who would dare bully him for it.

"Armin, you have to remember, Eren isn't a pastel goth." He laughed. Armin only shrugged.

"Well, if he thinks I'm going to let him wear some bland black tux, then he asked the wrong boy to prom." The blonde huffed, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest. "At least his vest and shirt need to be colorful!"

Marco laughed, ruffling his hair. It had been pink all week, but the dye was fading, so it was probably due for a new hue. Armin batted his hand away, giggling even as he flattened it back down.

"Well, what about you?" Armin demanded, grinning up at the taller teen.

"What about me?" Marco wondered, quirking a brow. Armin rolled his big blue eyes, mascaraed lashes making the color stand out even more.

"You know what I'm talking about. Did Jean ask you? Or maybe you asked him?" He prompted, smiling.

"Oh!" Marco gasped, eyes going wide. "Oh my gosh, I forgot!" He groaned, burying his face in his hands. Armin blinked next to him, then placed a hand on his back.

"You forgot to ask?" He guessed.

"No!" Marco cried, coming out of his fingered hiding place. "I forgot that he asked me!" He wailed, biting his lip.

"Er… Why is that bad?" Armin wondered. "I mean, he asked, right?"

"Yeah, like, a month and a half ago!" Marco groaned, putting his head down on the table.

The blonde looked to the other people sitting at the table, just to make sure he wasn't the only one confused. He was glad to see everyone else looked just as lost as he was. Still, he tried to comfort his friend, patting his back gently, hoping it was soothing.

"Um, okay, I still don't see the problem, but, uh…" He began, biting his lip. He slumped when he realized what he'd done though, reaching for his lipstick and licking the color off of his teeth.

"The problem," Marco mumbled, "Is that now we only have about a month until then!"

Armin popped his lips, now perfectly cotton candy pink again, and pursed them instead of biting.

"Yeah, we do prom pretty early." He agreed. "But what's the issue? You know who you're going with! And there's plenty of time to get tickets!" He reasoned, glancing at the clock and beginning the process of cleaning up his lunch.

Marco could only frown, mood already sinking.

"It's an issue because I haven't been saving." He explained, finishing his pudding.

Armin's eyes widened as he finally understood, and then his face quickly fell into a frown.

"Oh… I forgot… Are you going to be able to rent a tux? I'm sure you could still scrounge it up. And maybe Jean could help you out?" He suggested, shouldering his bag. Marco quickly shook his head.

"No, he shouldn't have to help me with something like that!" He replied, frowning. His financial issues were not something he wanted to inconvenience Jean with. "And I have to buy a ticket too… And I'll need to find a couple of girls willing to help us get in." He continued, groaning as he realized how much he still had to do. "Who are you and Eren going with?" He wondered.

"Officially speaking, Eren is going with Mikasa, and I'm going with Annie. But we're trading as soon as we get in." He responded. "I wish the school would just give up on the 'no gay couples' rule. We all go together anyway." He groused, standing as the bell rang. Marco got up too, putting on his backpack.

"Let me know if you know any girls that want to go and haven't been asked yet." He plead, and Armin nodded.

"I will. And if there's anything else I can help with, you know you can count on me." He assured Marco, ignoring the little sigh the taller gave. "Uh, just try to keep Jean away from Eren." He warned. Marco blinked, looking at the blonde with confusion. Armin rolled his eyes. "Apparently they know each other from elementary school, and they have a habit of picking fights with each other whenever they can." He elaborated. Marco sighed. Honestly, he was wondering who exactly Jean got into fights with. He'd never witnessed something like that. Apparently he just wasn't getting the opportunity. It was a bit strange to think that he had been so close to Jean without even knowing it; He'd been friends with Eren and Armin for ages, and maybe, with different timing, he might have met Jean much sooner. Oh well; he was just happy to have met him at all.

"Alright, I'll do my best!" He called as Armin scurried off to get to class. The blonde smiled and waved, disappearing from the cafeteria.

Even as Marco shuffled into class, his mind was filled with worries about prom. It always sounded good in theory, but there was actually a lot that went into it. He was going to have to find money for a tux, and money for a ticket, and he was going to have to figure out how to get in with Jean. One of the many reasons to move away as soon as possible; Only couples were allowed to go to prom, and only male female couples.

Luckily, there were a lot of girls that wanted to go to prom that didn't have a date. A lot of people would go with random strangers or people they barely knew just to get in, then they'd separate and find their friends. That was how all of the gay couples did it too. Marco would have to remember to start asking pretty much every female he came across if they were available for prom.

When he got to class, he sat next to Jean, smiling despite his worries and slipping him a kiss as he sat down. Jean returned the smile and the kiss, nudging his boyfriend playfully.

"Have a good lunch?" He wondered. Marco grimaced, trying to force a smile. He didn't want Jean worrying about him needlessly. He'd get it figured out by himself.

"Uh-huh. How was English?"

Jean groaned, and Marco snickered at the noise, but Jean didn't get a chance to complain further. The teacher arrived and began class, and the two boys were forced into attentive silence.

After school let out they made their usual locker runs and headed out for Jean's car. They just sat for a couple minutes in the parking lot while Jean took a few drags on a cigarette. Marco frowned, thinking about all the negative effects of smoking, and imagining every single one happening to Jean. Even just thinking about having to visit Jean in the hospital as he slowly withered away into cancerous doom was enough to make his heart skip a beat in the most petrifying of ways.

"You really ought to stop smoking." He reasoned, though he still caught himself sniffing appreciatively at the wafting tendrils of smoke, despite the vision he'd just had. Jean turned, looking at him, then back at the cigarette, as if contemplating both.

Marco was a little surprised when he snuffed it out in the car's ashtray and tossed the pack into Marco's lap.

"Alright." He agreed, twisting the key and turning the car on. Marco blinked, glancing down at the little plastic-wrapped cardboard package.

"Uh… Alright?" He prompted.

"Yeah. I'll quit." Jean replied, shrugging. "If you want me to."

Marco looked down at the package again, then at his boyfriend incredulously. Just like that?

"R-Really?" He demanded. Jean shrugged again, pulling out of his parking space with ease, carefully avoiding the lingering traffic of students escaping the parking lot after a long day.

"Yeah. I only really started smoking to calm down after fights with my dad, you know? I don't really need them anymore." He reasoned. "I can just come see you." He pointed out, sending a grin Marco's way.

The freckled boy blushed, but he nodded, leaving the package on his lap to be disposed of when they got to his house. He wanted to kiss Jean, but knew better than to bother him when he was driving. So he settled for just grinning like a dope, feet tapping to the beat of some grungy song he didn't know.

When they got to the house, he made quick work of throwing the pack of cigarettes into the garbage, and then he emptied a container of old leftovers over it so that Jean wouldn't be tempted to try and retrieve the nicotine. Jean only scoffed, opening the freezer and pulling out a pizza, setting the oven to preheat before he wrapped his boyfriend up in his arms and kissed him.

Marco smiled, poking his tongue out to taste the other boy, relishing in what might be the last bit of tobacco he'd ever taste. It was a parting he was willing to deal with if it meant Jean would be healthier. Jean backed him up till his butt hit the counter, holding him by the hips as he plunged forward, taking Marco's languid mood to his advantage. Marco let himself be moved, body mostly limp, leaning against the counter to keep himself upright.

They parted with a hum on Jean's part, and he nuzzled into the freckled teen's shoulder.

"You're awfully passive today." He mused, kissing a patch of freckles he found under Marco's ear. The other boy giggled.

"Mmm, I guess so. I think I'd rather let you do what you want." Marco decided, hands coming up to lazily wrap around Jean's shoulders. The other teen grinned, pressing Marco harder against the counter.

"Oh yeah?" He breathed, kissing right under Marco's jaw bone. It sent a shudder down the taller boy's spine, a low whine parting his lips.

"Mhm." He replied, drawing out the sound. "After all, you did something for me today." He breathed, fingers flexing just before combing through the tawny top half of Jean's hair. He felt the other boy shiver under the attention, and the corners of his lips tugged up into a faint smile.

Jean brought their lips together again, more urgency making his kiss a bit sloppy. Marco stayed still though, letting Jean move him as he pleased. But he was more than aware of the tightness pooling in his stomach.

Marco wasn't new to the feeling. He and Jean had partaken in a quite a few make out sessions, and a few of them had gotten pretty intense. But Jean had always pulled back before it got any further than some cautious touches and awkward trips to the bathroom. But they'd at least established that there was a mutual desire between them. And Marco could appreciate that Jean was taking it slow, most likely for him.

That didn't stop him from gently rolling his hips into Jean's, earning a breathy moan that he swallowed eagerly, hands coming down to rest on Jean's hips too, holding him close so that he wouldn't try to back off. They parted, and Jean took a moment to stare at the darker teen, then he pulled him back down, one arm slung around his neck, the other trailing down between his body and the counter to grab at Marco's ass.

Marco giggled, chest expanding with the laughter. Jean huffed, but didn't let go, hushing his boyfriend with another kiss. Marco sobered quickly, humming into the kiss and copping a feel of his own. But he decided that slipping his hand up the other boy's shirt was-

"Marco?"

The two teens yelped, sloppily separating from each other before looking towards the source of the voice, eyes wide and cheeks red.

"Ma-Marie!" Marco breathed, trying to straighten his appearance a bit. The girl looked unimpressed and even, dare he say it, annoyed.

"Marco, you shouldn't touch people's butts in the kitchen." She scolded. "It's naughty." She added, pulling her backpack off before crossing her pudgy little arms over her chest.

Both of the boys blinked at the eight year old, then they laughed in unison, gasping for air whenever they could. Jean actually hit the floor after a few seconds. Marie looked entirely fed up, and Marco did feel a little bad about what she'd witnessed, so he stifled his giggles, walking over to her.

"Alright, Marie, I'm sorry. I won't touch his butt in the kitchen again." He promised, getting down on her level. She pouted.

"Cross your heart?" She demanded. He chuckled, pushing back some of her dark bangs.

"And hope to die." He agreed. Finally, her stance loosened, and she was apparently done being angry. "Now, what did you come in here for in the first place?" He wondered, taking her backpack from where she'd dropped it on the floor and hanging it on the rack that'd been drilled into the wall for that exact purpose.

Her eyes lit up with remembrance, and she pointed. Marco followed her finger with his eyes, and then scoffed.

"Marie, you know you aren't supposed to have cookies before supper." He reprimanded. He watched as she went from cute to pouting in a split second.

"And you aren't supposed to be touching people's butts in the kitchen." She retorted. The freckled teen regarded her for a moment, then shrugged.

"Fair enough. Don't tell mom." He warned, opening the cookie jar and handing the waiting girl two chocolate chip cookies.

"I won't!" She assured, grinning.

"Cross your heart?" Marco asked, and she rolled her eyes.

"And hope to die." She replied, scampering out of the kitchen. They could hear her feet on the stairs as she rushed up them, then they glanced at each other and laughed.

"Oh man, you let your five-year-old sister boss you around!" Jean accused.

"First of all, she's eight, and second of all, you don't mess with Marie." Marco said with a small shudder. "That girl could mess you up." He added. Jean scoffed.

"Whatever, she's eight and like, this big." He said, holding his hand close to the floor to inaccurately represent the little girl's height.

"I am four feet tall!" Marie screeched, reentering the kitchen. Jean jumped, eyes going wide as he was glared down by his boyfriend's sister.

"O-Oh, right, sorry." He apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. Marie put her hands on her hips, one cookie still in hand.

"I want milk." She announced, looking pointedly at Jean.

"Uh, o-okay." He offered, pulling down a cup and quickly filling it with milk from the fridge, a few drops hitting the counter. Marie took it, eyes still narrowed at the teenager. With one final glance, she took off for the stairs again. The boys waited for her footsteps to disappear, then Marco snickered.

"You were saying?" He laughed, ripping a paper towel from the roll and cleaning up the drops of milk.

"Oh shut it." Jean hissed, face going red. His only saving grace was that the buzzer for the oven went off to inform them that it was ready to accept the pizza. Jean jumped at the opportunity to change the subject, putting it in himself, and Marco had a hard time upholding his end of the bargain with Marie, tempted to grab his boyfriend's ass, seeing as it was so perfectly displayed before him. But he showed every ounce of his restraint and managed to keep his hands to himself.

Jean stood back up with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

"Well, after dealing with your sister, I have pretty much negative boner." He announced, leaning against the counter. Marco nodded, smiling awkwardly.

"Me too. But I mean, the kitchen wasn't the best place for that anyway." He pointed out. Jean shrugged.

"How long do you have to keep promises in this house?" He wondered. "Because I think the kitchen is a great place for a game of grabass." He added, grinning wolfishly as Marco nudged his shoulder.

"Oh quit it. That could have been a lot worse! We're lucky Marie is young enough that she didn't know what we were up to!" He groaned. "What if it had been Nardo? We might have scarred him!"

Jean scoffed, tugging the freckled teen over and slotting their lips together.

"He'd get over it."

"Jean!" Marco snapped, but there was no bite to it. Not when he was smiling and drawing closer for more kisses. Jean only hummed, running his fingers through dark locks before letting the other go.

"Mmm, I love you babe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this one took a bit longer than usual. To be honest, I've been very busy lately. I worked a gaming convention this past weekend, have a Harry Potter carnival to work this weekend, and then a convention the weekend after that. I have a lot I have to do to get ready for the next two events, so I've been pretty stressed and pressed for time.
> 
> Truth be told, it might be two or three weeks before the next update. I know that sucks, since it's been pretty quick so far, but I need to focus on my sewing and painting until after these two events. But I didn't want to leave you guys with no update and no explanation for so long, you know? So here is a quick chapter, and an update on my personal life. Let's just hope I get everything done on time.
> 
> In other news; People have already started using the tag on tumblr~! It isn't much, yet, but it's still something! I've gotten a bit of fanart, and I want to say a huge thank you to those that made it for me! If anyone makes fanart, or does anything fan related for my story, you can tag it on tumblr with the tag "fic tmttr" and I will see it. I check it pretty often, and it warms my heart when something new pops up. You're free to ask me any questions about the story there too. You guys have been great thus far, and I hope you stay along for the ride!
> 
> So, I need to get back to work. Thanks, as always, for reading, as well as for all of the feedback thus far. It keeps me going, you know? If you have time, the feedback is always appreciated. I love hearing what you guys think and feel. Until next time!
> 
> KuroRiya  
> 九六りや


	7. Chapter 7

Both boys blinked, staring at each other for an awkward second before both broke away with a thick blush on their cheeks.

Marco had thought the same thing to himself about a hundred times, but never had he dared to voice it aloud. He'd been waiting for Jean to say it first. After all, he had no idea when it was appropriate to admit to something like that. He just assumed Jean would know better.

But considering how quickly the boy was apologizing for saying it, maybe it was still too soon? Marco still couldn't help but smile, albeit nervously.

"I-I didn't mean to say that out loud, I was just, you know… Uh, caught up in the moment, and-" Jean was rambling, fingers wringing together nervously and eyes on the floor. Marco put him out of his misery, shutting him up with a kiss. It was effective.

"Jean," He breathed, pulling away and holding the other teen's face in his. "It's alright."

They just stared at each other for a moment, then Jean visibly relaxed.

"Me too." Marco added, smiling. "I have for a while now, but I wasn't sure when it would be a good time to say it." He explained, pressing his lips to Jean's again.

"Jesus, babe, I'm sorry." Jean muttered. "I-" He hesitated. "I didn't mean to freak out."

Marco shook his head, pressing their foreheads together and grabbing for Jean's hands.

"It's just… I ruined one of my best relationships by saying that too soon." He explained, squeezing Marco's fingers.

The freckled teen frowned, bending down a bit so that Jean would have to look at him, even if he stared at the ground like he was doing. He watched his expression for a few seconds, then offered a soft smile.

"Well, I'm sorry that that happened. But I might not have met you if not for that." He pointed out, stooping for a kiss. Jean finally managed a small smile, lifting his face to look at his boyfriend at last.

"Yeah. She was a bitch anyway." He mused, pulling Marco closer and hugging him tightly.

"Oh, come on, I'm sure she wasn't that bad!" Marco chided. Jean scoffed.

"Trust me, baby. She's the sort you don't want to mess with." He warned, resting his head against the other teen's shoulder, taking a breath. Marco didn't argue further, opting instead to wrap his arms around Jean instead, swaying slowly.

"Hmmm, baby, I'm a terrible dancer." Jean grumbled, earning a laugh.

"I'd say so if swaying side to side is dancing in your book." Marco quipped, kissing the other's cheek. Jean snorted, pushing away from the motion as the timer went off. He pulled the pizza out, setting it on top of the stove while he pulled out drawers in search of a pizza cutter.

"Second on the right." Marco directed, pointing to the correct drawer. Jean opened it and, sure enough, found the desired utensil. Marco hummed, getting some paper plates from the other side of the counter. "You've made yourself at home, huh?" He laughed, nudging his boyfriend's arm with the plates.

"Mhm. You guys actually have teenager food, so I think I'm moving in." He joked. Marco grinned, holding the two plates out to receive the now sliced pizza.

"I wouldn't mind, but you'll have to talk to Marie to make sure it's okay." He replied, heading to the table with the plates in tow. He heard Jean groan from where he'd left him.

"But Maaarco, she hates me!" The two-toned teen whined, fishing two cans of soda out of the refrigerator and following behind his companion.

"She does not hate you, you baby." Marco promised, scooting one of the plates over and stealing one of the sodas. Jean huffed, but didn't argue it further, sitting down in the chair next to the freckled boy and getting started on his half of the meal.

"But, seriously," Marco added after a pause. "I don't think anyone would mind."

Jean hesitated, putting down the bite he was about to take. He seemed to be thinking about it for a moment, but eventually shook his head.

"As much as I'd like to live with you, I'll stick it out till I'm eighteen." He decided. "You guys have enough kids to feed and clothe without me hanging around." He pointed out. "Er… Well, I'll still eat your food. Sorry 'bout your luck on that, Bodt."

Marco rolled his eyes, getting back to work on his half of the pizza, which was quickly dwindling.

"I don't mind." He replied, getting up to fetch some napkins, handing a couple to Jean before wiping his fingers off and taking his plate to the trash. Jean wasn't far behind.

"Anyway, what's on the to-do list today?" He wondered, dragging his backpack over to the table. Jean groaned, but followed suit, yanking his homework out and spreading it out on the surface.

"English and statistics." He replied, pulling those from the stack of papers and laying them out in front of Marco. The latter looked them over, then smiled wryly.

"This isn't so hard." He promised, starting with the English assignment.

They worked through it together, managing to get all of their homework done, leaving their weekend free for schmoozing. Of course, just as they were packing up with intentions of terrorizing Marco's younger siblings, Mrs. Bodt opened the front door, calling to the entire household to alert them of her arrival.

Plans thwarted, the boys sighed, but came to greet her.

"Hey mom." Marco offered, leaning over to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She smiled, patting his back in return.

Jean stood a couple of inches behind Marco, shuffling his feet in a display of ineffable awkwardness.

"Hi Mrs. Bodt." He finally managed, and she huffed, taking a few steps forward and wrapping him up in a hug too.

"I think it's about time you start calling me mom." She decided, kissing his cheek.

Marco watched with amusement as Jean's face lit up red, eyes wide with surprise. And when he tried to speak, it came out a stuttering mess.

"I-I, um, I mean, I… Er… Ma-I…"

Mrs. Bodt sighed, smile still in place.

"Don't have an aneurysm, sweetie." She suggested, opening her arms wide to the stampede of children that had started trickling down the stairs. Marie was last, and Marco groaned as she came down the steps, face covered with crumbs from the cookies he'd slipped her.

Sure enough, Mrs. Bodt gave her daughter a pointed look, bending down to wipe the crumbs off.

"Well now, it looks like someone had a cookie before dinner." She said, and Marie froze, brown eyes going wide with fear and panic. She looked around desperately, probably seeking a distraction. Her wide eyes fell upon Marco. Said teen narrowed his eyes.

"Don't you dare-"

"Marco touched Jean's butt in the kitchen!" She announced quickly, and Mrs. Bodt turned her gaze to her son. There was amusement mixed in with her stern expression, but Marco gulped nonetheless.

"Did he now?" She asked, and Marie nodded furiously.

"Yes! He touched it lots!" She elaborated, opening her arms wide to show just how much 'lots' was. Mrs. Bodt gave a scandalized gasp.

"Lots?!" She demanded, and Marie nodded again. "Well then, it sounds like someone's due for a time out." She decided, looking pointedly at Marco. His jaw dropped, and he groaned.

"Mom, I'm eighteen years old, and-" He began, but she cut him off.

"And still living in my house. You know the rules. 10 minutes on the couch, no talking." She delegated. He whined low in his throat, throwing a withering glare at his sister.

"But mooom… Jean touched my butt in the kitchen too!" He protested, earning an offended grunt from his boyfriend, not to mention a swift nudge in the shoulder.

"Oh really?" She inquired, earning a nod from Marco this time. "Well, now that that's come to light, I think I'll have to put you both in time out." She announced with a sigh, shrugging as if they'd given her no choice.

She herded the boys towards the couch, and Marco watched Marie stick her little pink tongue out at him. He was just about to tattle when Mrs. Bodt paused, turning back to Marie.

"You too, little trouble maker." She called, and Marie's eyes widened.

"W-What?" She questioned, backing away a bit. Mrs. Bodt smiled wryly.

"Regardless of who touched who's butt, you still ate a cookie before dinner." She replied, grabbing the girl's hand and dragging her to the couch, plopping her down between Jean and Marco and giving them all the stink eye. "Ten minutes, no talking." She reiterated before going back into the kitchen. Marie crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back on the couch and pouting.

Marco couldn't keep himself from a bit of silent laughter as he watched Jean fall into almost the same position, glaring over at him as if a ten minute timeout was really putting a damper on his mood. Marco made a kissy face at him until his façade cracked, and he grinned, sticking his tongue out at his boyfriend.

Jean snickered, mouthing an obscenity, and Marco responded with another silly face. Jean snorted this time, and Marie sat up straight.

"Moooom! Marco's making Jean laugh!" She cried, earning a glare from both sides.

"Are they talking?" Mrs. Bodt called back, not emerging from the kitchen. Marie scowled, sinking back into sulking.

"No." She called back, huffing.

And so they continued with their antics, annoying Marie to no end to make up for her tattling on them. When the ten minutes were over, she stomped up to her room, blowing a raspberry in their general direction.

"Love you too, Marie!" Marco called as she slammed her door. He and Jean both laughed, waiting a minute or so before chancing the trip up the stairs as well, shutting themselves in Marco's room and flopping down on the bed, lying side by side. They were quiet for a while, just listening to their breaths and pressing their arms together. Then Jean huffed.

"Your sister is a nightmare. Who knew?" He said, and Marco laughed.

"I told you, you don't mess with Marie." He replied, shrugging, the motion pulling the sleeve of Jean's t-shirt up a bit. "But you know, the fact that she got you in trouble means she's getting used to you." He pointed out with a smile that was all teeth. Jean sighed.

"If that's what becoming part of the family means, then I think I'll skip." He decided. Marco hummed, patting around blindly against the mattress until he found Jean's hand, which he enveloped with his own.

"Aww, come on Jean, everyone looooves you!" Marco cooed, leaning over and pressing his lips to his boyfriend's red cheek. Jean grumbled incoherently, and Marco continued to smile. "Me too. I love you too." He announced shyly, looking away with embarrassment.

Jean's head snapped to look at him, and he sat up, pulling on Marco's shoulders to get him sitting up too, then he crushed their lips together before Marco had any chance to ask questions. The freckled boy couldn't help but struggle a bit at first, out of pure surprise. But he quickly melted into it, letting Jean press kiss after kiss to his lips till his head was spinning.

He didn't even say anything as Jean shifted, straddling his legs for a better angle, lowering them both towards the mattress. He only whined appreciatively, hands reaching for the soft hair he'd found himself fond of touching recently, raking through it slowly, holding Jean close.

They both groaned when Mrs. Bodt announced that dinner was ready, hollering up the stairs. With a bit of effort, they extracted themselves from each other, taking a few seconds to flatten their hair and straighten their rumpled clothes.

"Well, on the bright side, at least she called for us before we started popping boners." Marco mused, shrugging. Jean groaned.

"Baby, don't say that word, it's dirty." He complained, picking a strand of Marco hair off of his Misfits shirt, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Marco quirked a brow.

"What, boner?" He asked, and Jean shuddered.

"Yes, boner. Don't say that. You're too gorgeous to say something so crude." He explained, and Marco scoffed before he could stop himself.

"Seriously? I'm not some princess-" He began, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Says the guy that wore a sweater vest to a party." Jean interrupted, smirking as he left the room, power walking to the stairs with Marco hot on his trail.

"You said it was dashing!" Marco accused, and Jean cackled, hopping a few stairs.

"I said no such thing!" He called over his shoulder, sliding a bit at the bottom of the stairs thanks to his socks and his haste.

"You can't take it back whenever it's convenient!" Marco groused, taking care not to trip as he got to the bottom as well.

At that point they'd entered the kitchen, and their conversation was swallowed by the idle hum of chatter that accompanied any meal in the Bodt house. Marco grabbed a plate for the both of them, handing one to Jean and getting to work making his plate.

Before they left the kitchen to join the others at the table though, Jean leaned over and pecked him on the lips.

"I did like the sweater vest." He whispered, sauntering into the dining room and claiming his place next to Nardo, nodding a hello to Mr. Bodt. Marco rolled his eyes, following after and saying hello to his father, exchanging one of those trademark Bodt smiles.

They ate dinner, and got to watch a couple episodes of Supernatural with the family, then Jean said his goodbye.

"Really? Why don't you just stay?" Marco wondered, looking at the clock. "It's getting pretty late." He pointed out. Jean shook his head, shoving his feet into his boots and lacing them while he spoke.

"Nah, I want to stay over tomorrow. And the old man'll have a fit if I'm gone two days in a row." He reasoned, getting started on the second boot.

Marco bit his lip. He really wanted Jean to stay. After all, they'd kind of used the L word for the first time that day, and he wanted nothing more than to spend the whole night snuggled in Jean's arms. But he could understand the other teen's view. Saturday was a better day to hang out, and they'd get to spend more time together if Jean came over early in the morning, which he likely would.

"Well, alright. Call me later, okay?" Marco requested, and Jean nodded, standing up and shoving his hands into the pockets of his trusty leather jacket. Marco shook his head, smiling. "One of these days Jean, I'm going to steal this jacket." He promised, running his finger down the leather. Jean smiled too, leaning in for a quick kiss.

"I'll hold you to it. Talk to you later, babe." He called, letting himself out.

"Yeah, I'll be waiting!" Marco replied, watching out of the window as Jean got into his car and started down the road.

Once he was out of sight, he sighed. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his mother giggle.

"M-Mom?" He yelped, turning to see her standing in the hallway.

"He told you he loved you, didn't he?" She guessed, and a blush covered his cheeks in naught but a split second.

"U-Um…" He hesitated, not sure how he should answer that one. She only grinned knowingly, walking closer and squeezing his arm.

"He's a keeper Marco. But he's skinny as a skeleton, you need to fatten him up." She proclaimed, and he couldn't help but laugh. She laughed with him, but sobered, patting his back. "But really Marco, take care of him. I can tell that he has it a little rough, and you're good for him."

Marco nodded, smile still in place.

"And I think he's been good for you too." She mused, reaching up to pinch his nose. "You're actually talking to people."

Marco groaned, throwing his arms up in the air.

"I talked to people before Jean!" He groused, and she leveled him with a hard stare.

"Besides Armin?" She specified. He faltered, swallowing.

"U-Um… Mikasa and Eren?" He tried, and she barked a laugh.

"You only talked to them because they came with Armin. Now hush, boy. You know I'm right." She chided, turning on her heel and heading back for the kitchen. "All I'm saying is, he's a nice kid, deep down under all those holes in his face and the scary bands he wears on his shirts. You two are good together." She finished, disappearing into the living room.

Marco stared after her for a moment, then trudged up the stairs, laying out on his bed once again. He didn't need his mother to tell him those things, really. He already knew how wonderful Jean was under the grungy exterior. He already knew that his social anxiety was slowly but surely decreasing as Jean introduced him to new people and helped him through tough conversations. It wasn't that he couldn't make friends; Marco had always been friendly, and most people he did talk to tended to like him. But he was afraid of taking that first step, scared of what people thought of him.

Jean was a good influence, because Jean cared so very little about what people thought. It was refreshing, and Marco was glad that it had been rubbing off on him.

But as much as Jean was good for him, he was good for Jean. He went to class now, did his homework, passed his tests. His GPA had improved already by the time they got their quarterly reports. Teachers, at least the ones that hadn't refused to work with them, were constantly taking him aside and telling him how proud they were of his progress. And Marco was glad. Jean was going to graduate alongside him. Maybe it didn't count for much, but it was one of the first things they'd ever accomplish together.

He was excited, but also a bit drained, and he didn't even realize that he was dozing off until a shrill rendition of Bullets For My Valentine started blaring from his pocket, and he gasped, sitting up in bed in a panicked daze.

After calming down, he managed to fish his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, pressing the answer button and bringing it to his ear.

"Hello?" He greeted, wincing at how gravelly his voice sounded.

"Hey baby."

It was Jean, and a grin found its way to his face quickly.

"I'm sorry for waking you up." Jean added, sighing into the receiver. Marco shook his head, then remembered that Jean couldn't see it.

"No, it's okay, it's my fault for falling asleep after asking you to call me." He replied quickly.

"Well, I should have called earlier." Jean admitted, and Marco heard him sigh again. That might not have been a good sign.

"It's alright! At least you called." He said easily, dopey smile coming to his lips. Still, he glanced at the clock to see just how late Jean was calling. He gasped.

"Oh!" He exclaimed, checking again just in case. "Oh wow, it's four AM!"

Jean was quiet for a while, and Marco frowned.

"Jean?" He prompted, still receiving no reply. "Jean, what's wrong? Why are you calling so late… Er… Early?"

Again, it was quiet for a while, but finally Jean caved, sighing one more time.

"…Me and the old man got into it again." He admitted, and Marco sucked in a breath of air. "He… He asked why I was so late getting home, and wanted to know why I was always out till eight every day. And… Well, I got pissed off." He explained. Marco bit his lip, holding tightly to his phone.

"I sort of… I sort of told him about us. Screamed it at him, actually." He said, pausing. "He… Uh… Well, you can imagine, he was livid. Swore at me for a good couple hours, then tried to lock me up in my room." He continued.

As if Marco wasn't worried already, now his heart was pounding.

"A-Are you okay?" He wondered, breath thin.

"Yeah babe, I'm fine. I'm not scared of him like I used to be." Jean laughed, but the sound was bitter. "Um, anyway, I… I broke the door down, and, well, I'm kinda out on your porch." He finished, and Marco blinked.

"…Right now?" He wondered, and Jean scoffed.

"No, next week." He said sarcastically. Marco was already rushing down the stairs, and he threw the door open after fighting with the locks for a while. And there stood Jean, phone still against his ear, a duffle bag over his shoulder. He took a moment to look the younger teen over, top to bottom, then wrapped him up in a tight hug, knocking the wind right out of him.

"Hello to you too, sweetheart." Jean snarked, returning the hug nonetheless.

"Oh hush, you scared the daylights out of me!" Marco complained, pulling the other into the house, shutting the door and relocking it. Jean rubbed the back of his neck, putting his bag down and sitting on the stairs to take his shoes off again.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to." He offered, grunting with the effort of tugging the boots off. "I just… I needed to get out of there. I haven't seen him that mad in a long time. Last time we duked it out." He explained. Marco frowned, sitting on the stair next to his boyfriend, nuzzling into his side.

"I'm glad you left." He breathed, kissing Jean's cheek softly, holding still while Jean pressed a proper one to his lips.

"Thanks for letting me in, baby." Jean said, offering a small smile as he heaved himself to his feet, grabbing his bag and waiting for Marco to lead him up the stairs. "Looks like we're going to have that sleepover after all."

Marco scoffed, putting one hand on the railing and one in Jean's free hand, pulling him up the stairs and into his bedroom, keeping it down as he passed by the rooms of his sleeping siblings. Once they were inside and the door was closed, he sighed, pulling Jean over to his bed and collapsing on top of him.

Jean groaned under his weight but couldn't hide a little chuckle as he shoved him away, standing up and shucking his jacket and pants. Marco watched with fascination, pretending he hadn't been ogling the other as soon as he turned around with a quirked brow.

"Were you just checking me out?" He demanded. Marco did his best to keep a straight face.

"Uh, no, of course not! That'd be totally gay." He pointed out, still not tearing his eyes away even as he said it. Jean rolled his eyes, walking back over to the bed and sitting himself right on Marco's lap, knees on either side of his hips.

"Oh no, we wouldn't want that." He lamented sarcastically, fingers coming up to tangle in Marco's already messy bedhead, pulling him forward till their lips met, sweetly at first but with growing urgency. Marco whined into it, letting himself fall backwards on the mattress so that Jean was laying on top of him, lips not parting even as they moved.

When Jean finally pulled away from him, they gasped, and he looked down into eyes the color of rum, the iris being quickly overtaken by the black of pupils. It had been a long time since he'd seen someone's arousal so clear on their face.

"Jeez babe, are you horny, or what?" He wondered. Marco blushed, rolling over and trying to cover his face with his arms, rather unsuccessfully. Jean only smiled, kissing whatever skin he could get at. "Sorry, I shouldn't have made fun of you. It's alright." He promised, trying to pull Marco closer and to get him on his back again. It took some coaxing, but the freckled teen finally complied, shifting to lay on the bed properly, head resting against his pillows.

Jean offered him a soft kiss, rubbing circles gently into his arm in a bid to sooth his embarrassment.

"What do you want to do, sweetheart?" He asked against his boyfriend's ear, feeling the other's shiver everywhere their bodies pressed together.

Marco took deliberately slow breaths, trying to catch his mind up with his body. It was proving a difficult task with Jean pressed against him and breathing in his ear.

"I-I, um…" He stuttered, blinking rapidly, nerves sending his heart pounding.

Jean kissed him again, hands coming up to card through his hair gently, fingers trailing pleasantly against his scalp.

"Relax. I won't do anything you don't want, alright? You have my word. The second you say 'no,' I'll back off. But I'd like some idea of what you want." He requested, lips pressing against a particularly dense patch of freckles on his shoulder. Marco shuddered, biting his lip.

"I don't really… Uh… What are my options?" He wondered shyly. Jean pulled back, looking down at him with a bit of wonder.

"…Wow, you're really something, you know that, Bodt?" He laughed. Marco groaned, covering his face with his hands.

"Well, I'm sorry! I've never done something like this!" He snapped, earning an amused laugh from his boyfriend.

"Alright, alright, quit covering your face." Jean commanded, pulling his hands away. He looked down at the freckled boy, licking his lips. "I have to make a sex menu, god… There are a few things we could do. Er… A lot of things, actually. But I'm kinda going to assume that you want to start with something a little… Uh… Less intrusive." He explained.

His face felt like it was on fire, but Marco nodded, brows knitting.

"Right. So, uh… I could just get you off. You know, with my hand." He offered. "Or I could blow you, if you think you can handle it."

Well, if he was blushing before, he was close to exploding after hearing that.

"Whoa there babe, calm down!" Jean said, thumbs rubbing softly against his cheekbones in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "I haven't even done anything yet!" He pointed out.

"I-I know!" Marco mumbled, closing his eyes. "I just… God, I don't know how to deal with this." He admitted, pursing his lips.

Jean smiled, unable to think his boyfriend's face was anything but adorable.

"Well, you could start by telling me what you want." He suggested softly, receiving a nod from the boy beneath him. He waited for a response. And waited, and waited. "Uh, babe?" He prompted. Marco only whined, covering his face again.

Jean sighed, running a hand over his face. Apparently Marco wouldn't be providing any input, so he'd just have to dive in, and pay attention to the other teen's reactions. That decided, he started rolling the thin t-shirt covering Marco's torso upward, managing to get the boy cooperative enough to get it over his head.

"Shhh, baby, relax." He cooed, kissing down his chest and rubbing over his hipbones. He loved the little bit of pudge covering the protrusions, and his stomach. He'd decided, the first time he'd seen it, that it was the best pudge in the world, and was made to be cherished. So he spent a little extra time pressing kisses to it, earning a few gasps from the teen he was showering with affection.

He took a moment to take his own shirt off, then thumbed gently at the other male's boxers, looking up at the one they were covering.

Marco felt his butterflies return about a hundred fold when Jean finally got to that last bit of clothing. To say he was nervous was pretty much the understatement of his life. He trusted Jean, of course. But he had never done anything like this with anyone, and thousands of uncertainties and concerns flitted at the forefront of his consciousness.

What if he messed something up, did something horribly wrong? What would Jean think? What would he do? What if something was horribly wrong with him? Like, what if there was something down there that wasn't supposed to be? He couldn't imagine anything like that, but how was he to know better? The most he'd seen of the lower half of other humans had been during the swimming segment of P.E. and the one unfortunate run-in he'd had with a porn site.

But he tried to tell himself that he was being stupid, that Jean wouldn't care. He tried to tell himself not to worry. But it was hard, so hard.

Before he could sink too far into insecurities, Jean looked up at him, locking gazes for a few seconds. And he found himself entirely incapable of thinking clearly. That was sort of nice, actually, because he sort of forgot to be embarrassed as Jean slid his boxers off and tossed them somewhere to be forgotten. And he sort of forgot to look away when Jean licked the very tip of his erection. And he sort of forgot to keep his moans quiet as Jean started sucking him off, head moving slowly, tongue working dutifully.

He could feel the piercing, and it quickly gained his attention, offering him a little extra sensory stimulation. Not that he needed it. While he may have never had a blowjob before, he wasn't stupid. Jean was good. He could feel just a little jealousy rising up in his stomach at the thought of anyone else being intimate with Jean. But then he was also a little grateful, since Jean knew what to do, even with an inexperienced loser like himself. It likely would have been a lot more awkward if they were both trying to figure it out as they went.

Jean hummed, and Marco threw his head back, groaning loudly, hands clinging painfully to the sheets of his bed. He whined though when the sensation disappeared, and he chanced a glance downward.

"Baby, I know it's hard, but you should keep quiet." Jean warned, hand coming to stroke at his arousal in the absence of lips. Marco flushed, remembering way too late that he had a whole floor of siblings sleeping around him, only a wall or two away. He quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes going wide with horror.

"Oh my god, I… What if I woke someone up?" He gasped, sitting up a bit. Jean quickly pushed him back down though, shushing him.

"Don't worry about that. Just try to keep it down now, alright?" He suggested, free hand gently stroking his cheek before he sank back down, getting to work again.

This time Marco bit down his moans, or else bit down on his hand to muffle them, body shaking as he put in every effort not to thrust up into Jean's mouth. He'd never even imagined something like this, and even his best fantasies couldn't compare to the feeling of the real thing. He could feel himself unraveling, fingers tangling in Jean's hair, pressing him down a bit with urgency.

Jean took it all in stride, not even gagging or coughing, gently holding his hips down and working him closer and closer to his brink. It was like he knew exactly what to do, and maybe he did, but it didn't really matter because Marco was coming undone anyway.

"J-Jean!" He gasped, tugging gently at the longer hair at the top of his head. "Please-"

The other teen let him fall from his mouth, hand taking over the responsibility of bringing him to climax.

"You're almost there, right baby?" Jean inquired, kissing his stomach and thighs as he waited for an answer. Marco nodded, breathing too harsh to try and get all the necessary words out. Jean smirked, jerking him a little faster and releasing his hips.

Marco moaned as he was given freedom, hips stuttering and then falling into an unsteady pattern of rolling up into Jean's hand. Jean hummed, scooting up a bit and giving some attention to Marco's nipples, very erect already. That nearly sent the teen over the edge, and he clenched his teeth to hold his cries of pleasure in.

"Mmm, I love you, Marco." Jean breathed, kissing his chest, right over where his heart was pounding.

That was it. He was long gone, covering his mouth with his hand just in time to muffle the string of moans that came with his orgasm. It was still too loud, but he couldn't even care, too caught up in his release and the afterglow that started to turn his bones to liquid as he came down.

He sighed, body going entirely limp against his bed, chest heaving as he tried to get his breathing back to normal.

Marco didn't snap back to reality until he heard some quiet panting, and he turned his head to the side. His eyes, which had been lidded with sex-hazed grogginess, widened as he realized what Jean was doing, and he couldn't keep himself from staring as Jean got himself off. He was much hastier about it than he'd been with Marco, jerking himself quickly and coming before Marco even had a chance to offer his assistance.

Jean too took a moment to catch his breath, then he rolled off of the bed, going over to Marco's hamper and retrieving the towel the bigger teen had used after showering earlier. He wiped his hands on it, then came back to the bed and gently wiped at his boyfriend's stomach, ridding it of any sticky mess that had been there. Marco smiled sleepily, opening his arms. Jean grinned as well, tossing the towel carelessly towards the hamper, crawling back onto the mattress and planting himself against Marco's side, resting his hand on the teen's stomach.

Marco hummed, letting his eyes slide shut even as he wrapped his arm around Jean's back, pulling him as close as he could.

"Mm, you should have let me help you." He groused weakly, fingers tracing patterns against the skin they rested on. Jean mumbled, mostly incoherent, and pressed a finger to Marco's lips, earning a soft giggle that rumbled through the larger boy's chest.

"Next time." Marco promised, settling in for the night. Jean nodded weakly, kissing absently at Marco's chest before he shifted a bit, tangling their legs together and reaching for the comforter that had migrated to the end of the bed sometime during their tryst.

More than comfortable, they let the dissonance of their relaxed breathing lull them to sleep, not minding the lingering smell of Jean's aftershave and sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : So, I’m done with everything! I don’t really have much to worry about until August, aside from my job. But I can juggle work and writing pretty easily, thankfully. Anyway, sorry for the wait, I know it was long, but I’m back in action again, promise!   
> Cosplacon was a lot of fun, despite my sleep deprivation. I got, literally, six hours of sleep total that weekend. It was a hell of a ride. But it was still fun, and I made new friends! I finally worked up the nerve to check out a BJD meetup, and was pleasantly surprised by how nice they all were. I was still out of my league, but they didn’t seem to mind at all!   
> It’s been a while since I’ve done this, but I think it’s about time to start posting links to other pages where you can find me. For instance, if you want to check out my cosplay page (also my D20 girl page) you can find it here: https://www.facebook.com/kuroriyacos  
> For my devi, you can go here: http://kuroriya.deviantart.com/ (Just be warned, I don’t post much art there. I use it more to back up my stories, and to answer questions.)   
> Tumblr: http://kuroriya.tumblr.com/ (You are free to follow me, I always follow back.)   
> And that’s about it. You’re free to message me on any site, I love to chat! And, I’ve mentioned before, if you have anything related to this story that you want to post to tumblr, or if you just want to ask a question, make an observation, anything, you can tag it with fic tmttr. I’ll find it there! (Though it has been acting up recently, thanks to the update. I’ll figure it out though.)   
> That said, I have other stories I need to update! Thank you, as always, for reading, and feedback is appreciated! You guys have been a great audience thus far, and I’m loving writing for you! Till next time~!   
> KuroRiya  
> 九六りや


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning was a whirlwind of horror that neither Marco nor Jean would ever willingly bring up again. It started with Marie walking in to ask what Marco wanted for breakfast and finding not only her older brother, but her older brother's boyfriend buck naked against each other at a very prompt seven o'clock in the morning.

She proceeded to cover her eyes and scream, running from the room like she was being chased by the image of big brother Marco's freckled butt. This screaming was what woke the two teenagers, just in time to sit up as Mrs. Bodt rushed into the room to see what had frightened Marie so.

Everyone just sort of stared at each other for a few terrible seconds, then Marco yelped, fumbling for the comforter and trying to pull it over their bodies. Mrs. Bodt turned around but didn't leave, foot tapping with irritation.

"Marco D'Angelo Bodt!" She screeched, though her voice wasn't as harsh as it could have been, seeing as she was turned away. The boy in question stiffened, eyes wide and very afraid. "At least lock your door, for heaven's sake!"

The two teens blinked at each other, still trying to cover themselves up. They were both a bit in awe that they weren't in any serious trouble for what they'd done. After all, they'd sort of done the naughty in Marco's parents' house.

"Try to remember that you have little ones running around the house!" She added, chancing a glance over her shoulder. Seeing that the boys were now at least mostly covered, she turned around, hands planted on her hips.

"And what you two do in your spare time is up to you, but try to keep it down next time." She continued, rolling her eyes as she trudged back down the hall to console Marie, shutting the door on her way out.

It was silent in her wake, then they turned to each other in horror, realization dawning on them.

"Oh my god." Marco mumbled into his hands, face too red to show to anyone, let alone Jean.

"Alright babe, you have to tell yourself it could be worse…" Jean began, patting the bigger teen's shoulder.

"Oh my god." He repeated, shaking his head. "Mom. Mom heard us. MOM." He cried, throwing his hands up and tunneling under the covers to hide his shame. Jean smiled wryly, waiting just a few seconds before sneaking in after his boyfriend.

Marco was turned away, arms wrapped around himself protectively. Jean laughed, scooting closer and wrapping the other teen up in his arms, spooning him easily.

"Baby~!" He cooed, pressing a kiss to freckled shoulders.

"-Mom!" Marco lamented, remaining stiffly non-affectionate.

"At least it wasn't Nardo." Jean pointed out, running his fingers up and down the other's sides. Marco tried to groan, but ended up laughing from the ticklish sensation, shaking gently in Jean's arms.

"Oh my gosh you are terrible, stop!" Marco howled, tossing the covers aside so he could escape more easily. He rolled rather unceremoniously onto the floor, landing with a loud thud that made the floor shake a bit underneath him. Still, he laughed, especially when Jean actually snorted from cackling too hard.

Breakfast was, to say the very least, an intensely awkward affair involving a lot of dodging glances and pretending like they didn't know why everyone was staring. No one said anything, but it was sort of obvious that every person over the age of twelve had a pretty good idea of what had occurred. And there were quite a few people over the age of twelve.

They ate quickly, retreating back up to Marco's room with as much haste as they could manage and shutting themselves inside for what both of them almost wished could be the rest of their lives. It can be kind of tough to deal with numerous pairs of brown eyes staring you down.

Deciding that a day of hiding was their best bet, the boys settled in, chancing a trip downstairs to grab an armful of movies that they smuggled upstairs with intentions of watching them on the clunky laptop shoved into Jean's bag. But, not even a minute after their successful mission, there was a knock at the door.

Marco got up to answer it, and Mrs. Bodt stood on the other side. They both looked at her warily, fear and anticipation on their faces. She asked if she could come in, and Marco wordlessly stepped aside, letting her in. She shut the door behind her. Marco's eyes were wide as he asked, "Are we in trouble?"

She smiled, taking a seat on his desk chair.

"I don't think so, Sweetie." She replied, and he sighed with relief, exchanging a glance with his boyfriend before joining him where he sat on the bed. "I just wanted to ask you two a few questions." She explained, placing her hands on her knees.

Marco nodded, settling in. He got the feeling this was going to be a long talk. But she turned to Jean first.

"I recall you going home last night. Now, while I'm sure you adore my son and would like nothing more than to sneak over here every night to fondle his butt, I get the feeling that not even the two of you planned for you to come over." She began. Jean frowned, but nodded.

"I… Uh…" He hesitated, glancing at Marco nervously. It was obvious he was having trouble deciding how much he wanted to share with Mrs. Bodt.

"I could be wrong, but it seems to me that you and whoever is looking after you don't get along too well." She prompted, and Jean nodded again.

"Yeah. I live with my old man." He offered weakly. Marco frowned, taking his boyfriend's hand and giving it a squeeze, not liking how small it felt in his all of a sudden. Had it always been so thin and frail feeling? "We, uh… We kind of got into it last night." He admitted.

Mrs. Bodt nodded, lacing her fingers together.

"Was it bad?" She asked softly. There was a long moment of nothing, but Jean finally nodded.

"I, you know, felt safer coming here for the night." He explained quietly. Marco bit his lip, squeezing the fingers between his again, wishing he had some other way to comfort the teen sitting next to him. Mrs. Bodt seemed nearly as troubled, though her expression was solemn in comparison to Marco's fretting.

"Judging by that bag you brought," She said, nodding over at the big duffle that Jean had lugged in over his shoulder the night before, "You intend to stay for a while." She guessed.

At this, Jean looked down at his socked feet, the nervous curling of his toes visible even through the fabric. Marco too turned his gaze to the teen. He hadn't really thought about it the night before, for obvious reasons. But he was loathe to let Jean return to that house, and it seemed Jean was just as eager to stay away. It was pretty big duffle bag.

"I-I uh… I don't want to intrude or anything-" He began, using his free hand to rub at the back of his head self-consciously.

"I'll have none of that." Mrs. Bodt cut him off, crossing her arms over her chest. Jean looked up at her, wide eyed. "You aren't intruding. I've told you a million times, you're always welcome here." She reminded him, emphasizing the words. They seemed to have new meaning when she said them like that, and Jean finally managed a weak smile.

"I… Thanks." He decided, looking up at her with as much sincerity as Marco had seen on his face since he'd said "I love you."

Mrs. Bodt waved it off, standing back up.

"No thanks needed. I'll start making extra breakfast. Do you normally take your lunch to school? Marco gets lunch there, but if you need-" She started, but it was Jean's turn to cut her off.

"I buy lunch at school. Old man just filled up the account. I'm fine." He promised. She nodded, smiling warmly.

"Alright. Make yourself at home, dear. What's ours is yours. Just don't keep everyone up to all hours of the night." She warned, brow quirking at them both. Marco's face flushed red in an instant, and Jean stiffened his posture. Mrs. Bodt cackled as she let herself out, closing the door in her wake and leaving the boys in an awkward silence that spanned several seconds. Then Jean sighed loudly, flopping down on the bed.

"Well, that went pretty well." He announced. Marco's face was still red, but he lay down too, smiling.

"You should have told me you were going to stay!" He scolded, running his fingers through the longer hair atop Jean's head.

"I kinda figured you'd guess that." Jean retorted, swatting the hand away playfully. "But you sort of distracted me before I could say anything about it." He pointed out, bringing the fading blush right back to the darker teen's cheeks.

"Oh hush!" Marco groaned, burrowing his face into the side of Jean's neck, earning a laugh. They lay still for a moment, then Jean cleared his throat.

"Your mom is pretty awesome." He informed the freckled teen. Marco hummed, unable to disagree. She was plump, Italian, and full of warmth and compassion for nearly every living thing, and a few non-living things too. She was a hell of a mom.

He let thoughts of his mother fall away, standing. "I'll make some room in my closet for your clothes." He announced, opening the closet door and scrutinizing it for a few minutes, shoving some things aside and tugging other things out entirely.

Jean got up after a moment and peered at what Marco was doing curiously. He picked up one of the T-Shirts that Marco had pulled out of the closet, holding it out and looking it over.

"Babe?" He prompted, and Marco made a noise to show he was listening. "What're you doing with these?" He wondered.

"I was going to put them in the goodwill bag." Marco replied, pulling another shirt out and tossing it into the pile. "We keep one in the laundry room, and when it fills up mom takes it and drops it off." He explained. Jean frowned.

"But baby, this is such a cool shirt!" He complained, holding it out to him. Marco turned and looked at the one in question. It was an old gaming shirt, and he rolled his eyes.

"Jean-" He began, but Jean cut him off.

"Oh, come on, let me keep this one!" He requested, hugging it to him stubbornly. Marco rolled his eyes, but he waved his hand dismissively, to show that Jean could have his way. He could just barely see the grin this earned out of the corner of his eye, and it gave him a pleasant wave of butterflies.

The next half hour consisted of Marco trying to get rid of clothes and Jean either claiming them or convincing Marco that they'd look too good on him to get rid of. In the end, the closet only had about a foot of extra space. Apparently that was enough though, for there was still about an inch of wiggle room even after hanging all of Jean's shirts. Marco would have mentioned it, but he'd just donated a good chunk of his wardrobe to the one in question, so he let it go.

Next, he began reorganizing his dresser, scooting over his boxers and socks to fit Jean's in too. Once the duffle bag was empty of clothes, they brought the discards downstairs, folding them and shoving them into the aforementioned donation box, and stealing a bag of Cheetos on the way back up.

Jean took a couple of minutes to completely finish unpacking, sticking his toothbrush in the overflowing cup of Bodt toothbrushes, putting his razor in the medicine cabinet next to Marco's, unloading his deodorant, body spray, and other such toiletries wherever Marco had his own. He raised a brow when Marco requested to see his cologne, scoffing when the boy sprayed his pillow with it before handing it back.

"Really, babe-"

"Hush. You smell wonderful." Marco interrupted, lying face down on his pillow as if to prove a point. Jean shook his head, sitting next to him and rubbing his back gently. Marco practically moaned, thankful for the muffling from the pillow. "Oh god, I'm keeping you forever." He announced, rolling his shoulders.

Jean chuckled, scooting closer so he could give a better massage, since apparently that's what he was going to do. Marco was far from complaining.

"You are amaaaazing." He cooed, smiling pleasantly. "Please feel free to give me massages any time. You don't even have to warn me!" He said, as if Jean had won a prize. "Just, uh… Please take the spiked bracelets off in advance." He added. Jean laughed, kissing the small exposed bit of Marco's neck, tugging his collar down just a little to get better access.

"If you like this, then you should get to know Bertholdt." He suggested, smiling wryly. "He may be shy, but that guy gives the best massages in the world. He can work out any kink in your back. Even if you can't get it to crack, he can." He elaborated. Marco hummed, toes curling as the rest of his body relaxed.

"No offence to Bertholdt, but I think I'll stick to you." He replied coyly, inhaling the scent of Jean from his pillow and sighing happily.

It was finally starting to sink in that Jean, for all intents and purposes, would be living with him. He'd be sharing his bed with the other teen, sharing his bathroom, sharing his closet, sharing his life, indefinitely. It was a pleasant thought, and he couldn't believe his luck. But it also made him nervous. What if Jean didn't like living with him? If he didn't like it now, then he probably wouldn't want to live with him in the future. And Marco really wanted there to be a future for the two of them.

And, himself aside, he had to worry about his family. Jean, while definitely not the worst possible house guest, would be another mouth to feed, clothe, bathe… It was more money that his family was going to have to come up with. And it was sort of his fault, by proxy. He was seriously considering looking for a job, even though his mother had made it clear that she wanted him to focus on school until he graduated.

Jean seemed to notice that he was fretting about something, and the soothing motion of his hands disappeared, replaced by a gentle weight. Marco felt his boyfriend's head against his shoulder, and tried to hold still.

"Baby, I'm sorry for bringing my problems to you." Jean said, and Marco sucked in a breath.

"What are-"

"I'm not stupid." Jean interrupted. "I know you guys can't afford me. But I won't just freeload. Ma set up a savings account for me that my old man can't get to, and there's plenty in there for me to help out with stuff." He explained. Marco frowned, opening his mouth to reply, but Jean cut him off again. "And don't tell me you don't need it. I want to help." He insisted.

They were quiet for a while, then Marco sighed.

"I'll get a job." He announced. Jean smiled, nodding.

"Me too." He agreed, hands returning to Marco's back to rub softly. "I heard they're hiring at some shitty coffee place downtown. We could check it out." He suggested. Marco laughed, rolling over.

"Why would you want to work someplace you think is shitty?" He wondered, capturing one of Jean's hands and lacing their fingers. Jean rolled his eyes.

"I'm a punk, sweetheart. Anything hipster must be below me." He explained. Marco shook his head, knowing better than to open that can of worms.

"Whatever you say." He shrugged, pulling on the arm he'd grabbed until Jean fell against his chest, at which point he trapped him in his arms for some snuggling.

"Ugh, baby, we're supposed to be watching movies and inhaling cheesy goodness!" Jean groaned, cuddling into the bigger boy's side anyway. Marco giggled, reaching blindly behind himself and grabbing the bag of Cheetos, which he shoved into Jean's face.

"There, there's your fake cheese."

The ensuing tickle war wound up being almost as famous an event in the Bodt family as the morning fiasco, eventually including numerous Bodt children and one very annoyed elementary school girl who had had the misfortune of visiting Marie that weekend. Civilian casualties were unavoidable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I know that the updates have suddenly become slow. I mean, a week or so really isn't that long of a wait for one of my stories, but I sort of set you guys up with quick ones in the beginning. But, honestly, this is a pretty good example of my updating time. Some stories wait a whole month for updates!
> 
> The issue is, I'm getting close to catching up with myself. I have 13 chapters written up, thus far, and so we're getting sort of close to you guys having to wait while I write a chapter. But, I don't think it'll be too much longer… I think it'll be a little less than 20 chapters. Like… 16 or 17. We'll see though. I'll make that more specific when I get closer. There's still a lot to come, though! I promise!
> 
> Another thing, I'm working on another JeanMarco story that I'm thinking about posting soon. I've written four chapters in about a week, so that sort of explains why I've been a bit absent. I think I'll start posting that one when I get it up to 10 chapters, which is in two chapters, so not too long.
> 
> Anyway, before I go, I'd like to apologize for not getting to your messages and stuff in so long! I promise that I'm going to respond and everything, I've just been occupied recently. I really do appreciate all the feedback thus far! You guys have been a delightful audience, and I'm glad you're enjoying this experience as much as I am!
> 
> Alright, I think that's good for this chapter! Thank you, as always, for reading. Feedback is appreciated. And, as per usual, anything related to this fic can be tagged on tumblr with "fic tmttr." Okei, off I go! Thank you!
> 
> KuroRiya
> 
> 九六りや


	9. Chapter 9

It took them nearly two weeks to find time to go in for an interview. Between tests and homework, both boys found it difficult. But finally, immediately after school on a Thursday, Jean announced that he was going to apply at the café he'd brought up so many days ago. Marco decided to do the same.

When they got there and asked for applications, the proprietor waved them over to a table, asked a few questions, and hired them on the spot. Apparently the shop was in desperate need of new employees, as three had quit just a week ago.

When they asked their interviewer why, they earned a sort of sorrowful look.

"I hired a trans man." Was the only reply. They chose not to question it further, assuming they'd learn more on the subject in the weeks to come, seeing as they'd both been hired on as part-time employees at the hipster trash café that Jean had almost jokingly suggested they apply at.

The café's owner, after introducing themself as Hanji and explaining their personal preference of pronouns, was happy to work out a schedule that wouldn't interfere with their school time. They also promised that they could ask off when they needed. They were really only there to hold up the counters at night when few people came to get coffee, and the shift could easily be handled by a single employee if they needed a night off.

They even managed to share most of their shifts, only a few odd ones coming up because of Marco's afterschool activities. Hanji was very understanding of their situation as soon as they awkwardly explained it to them, and was more than ready to work with them as far as hour preferences.

It quickly became clear that this little café was something of a queer haven. How it had become such, they didn't know, but they weren't complaining. Hanji hadn't batted a lash when Jean announced that he and Marco were dating. Hanji was genderqueer, which was a term that had to be explained to the two confused boys. And they eventually met Levi, the aforementioned trans man that had been hired on as Hanji's assistant manager. Petra, who they met as they came in for their third shift, introduced herself as Hanji's girlfriend.

And then there was Krista, who came as a surprise to both of the boys. Marco knew that she was still in high school, having seen her around a few times. And Jean apparently knew her personally, explaining that she was within his circle of friends, and dating Ymir. (According to him, she was the Freckled Satan to Marco's Jesus.) The first thing he asked was how she was managing school and a day job, because she only worked morning shifts, but she only laughed, explaining that she had earned most of her credits early, so she only had afternoon classes every other day.

Oluo seemed to be the odd one out with his obvious crush on Petra that was going absolutely nowhere, but he was clearly much friendlier to the queer community than most people his age in the area, which the boys were thankful for. It was nice to have a place where they didn't have to worry about getting in trouble for stealing kisses.

Once they had at least met everyone, they made something of a game out of trying to figure out what they were all doing working in a tiny coffee shop. After all, most of them were adults who, according to society's standards, should have been doing more respectable things with their lives. Their guesses were usually very wrong, but it was still fun to play. Marco was usually the one that caved and asked, as politely as he could, what had led them all down this path.

Instead of being an experiment gone wrong, Hanji was actually working on a doctorate, and did some work as a scientist (which was sort of related to Jean's cruel guess), but needed something to make up the difference. So they'd decided to take the old building that their parents had long since abandoned after purchasing and made a café out of it. Petra, who was genuinely very fond of baking, took it upon herself to help Hanji out, and became their first employee.

Oluo, who wasn't actually a secret undercover agent, applied when he'd learned that Petra was an employee, and for some reason hadn't yet given up on her. He didn't say it like that, but it was sort of obvious.

Krista, much like Jean and Marco, simply needed a part time job through high school. She had moved out with her girlfriend when her parents had forcefully evicted her after she came out, and they had both taken up jobs to pay for their little apartment.

Levi was the scariest one to ask. He was in a higher position and rarely dealt with customers, which was most likely for the best. The man was sour, to put it lightly. But Marco held to his belief that no one is actually as terrible as they seem, and somehow worked up the courage to ask the terse man about his life choices. Levi was the one they had made the most guesses about, since it took them so long to guess, but they had been very off indeed.

At first they simply received a rather scathing glare from their assistant manager, but finally he sighed.

"A few guys at my office job started to wonder why I always went into the stall when I used the bathroom. So they took it upon themselves to find out."

The cruelty of the recollection stung at first, and they weren't exactly sure what to say. It wasn't something they'd expected to hear. But Levi simply returned to his work, apparently unaffected. Of course, Marco got the feeling that it bothered him more than he let on, but they decided they'd done enough damage and retreated to the front of the café to run their orders.

Marco's mother was furious when she found out about it roughly four days after they'd been hired. She'd sat them down in the living room and scolded them something fierce.

"I told you that I didn't want you to get a job until after school!" She cried, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Marco smiled sheepishly, hoping to abate his mother's fury.

"Well, I technically only work afterschool, so…" He began, but she rounded on him.

"Don't even finish that sentence." She warned, and he gulped, looking down at his feet. She paced in front of them for a few seconds, running her hands through her dark hair in irritation. Finally, she sat down opposite them with a sigh.

"I guess there's nothing I can do." She admitted, frowning deeply. "But the second your grades slip-" She growled. Marco quickly put his hands up in a display of surrender.

"They won't slip, mom." He promised. She then turned her gaze to Jean, eyes narrowing when he just stared back. Marco nudged him.

"O-Oh, yeah, mine won't either." He added, smiling nervously. She stared them both down for a few more seconds, then nodded curtly, stomping to the kitchen.

The two boys shared a sigh of relief, sweaty hands parting to air out after they'd latched them together at the beginning of their scolding. Marco smiled softly, toes curling in his socks.

"That could have been worse. And now we'll have our own money." He breathed. Jean nodded, scooting closer until their thighs pressed flush together, then he leaned over and planted a kiss on the freckled teen's cheek.

"We can buy food and stuff. Think your mom'll let us pick up the electric bill or something?" Jean wondered. Marco scoffed.

"Yeah right. She's a little too proud for that." He replied, turning and catching Jean's lips before the other had a chance to look away. The smaller teen hummed, hands coming up to pull Marco closer, slotting their lips together properly.

They ended up making out splayed across the couch, only parting when Marie trudged into the living room and shrieked with horror, then launched an attack on the two after taking a running leap straight onto Jean's back.

Ten minutes and a lot of rolling around and falling on the floor later, and Marie emerged the victor, laying all of her four foot body against as much of the couch as she could manage. There was still room for at least one of the boys to sit down, but they accepted their defeat with grace, sitting on the floor and stealing kisses while Marie watched some ridiculously dramatic Disney Channel special, awkward studio audience reactions included.

It wasn't until the day after they received their first paychecks that Marco recalled that prom was naught but a week and a half away. With a groan, he looked at the number printed on his paycheck stub, and realized that there was no way under the sun that he could afford to rent a tux. He'd be lucky if he could even find one this late in the game, and the normal price was usually well over $100 on a normal day. During prom season? He hadn't a chance.

And he still had to buy a ticket. And they still needed to find two girls willing to get them in. And they had barely more than a week to do so.

He began calling every female he knew, even trying Krista at work. Unfortunately, he didn't really know that many girls, and the ones he did were already paired off. Without any other options, he brought it up with Jean.

"Shit." Was the eloquent response he received.

Jean was now in on the panicking, and he too contacted every female he knew that still attended high school, to no avail. And when Marco brought up the cost of tuxes, his chain of curses only increased about tenfold.

Unable to find girls, they'd gone to the office and asked if they couldn't go together, or by themselves. The principal, with a sneer, shooed them out of the office. He couldn't be sure, but Marco thought he heard the word faggot on his way out, and quickened his pace, biting his lip with some strange mix of hurt and anger, and tangling his fingers with Jean's.

With three days left until prom, they admitted defeat. They hadn't been able to find anyone to go with, and hadn't even had time to look at tuxes. And they tried to play it off like it didn't bother them. Marco smiled in the morning when he woke up practically on top of Jean, and Jean tactfully avoided the topic and told stupid jokes to try and keep their minds off it. He'd gone as far as to thread a pipecleaner through his eyebrow ring and bent it into different shapes in a bid to divert the conversation when one of Marco's siblings, Arturo, brought it up. The kid was a freshman, so he knew what he was talking about.

But it bothered them. Marco's smile was forced as he listened to Armin gushing about his outfit and how he'd convinced Eren to get a pastel blue cummerbund and bow tie. And Jean kicked the ground roughly when Ymir mentioned all the plans she had for Krista, how she was going to make it the best night of the blonde's life.

Both teens were frustrated, but had no way of alleviating it. While it might not have been Disneyland, they'd been looking forward to prom, and now the event was being denied them. It was a letdown, one that kept coming back to remind them that they wouldn't be having fun with all of their friends in one of the last rites of passage they'd share.

On the night of, Marco sat on the couch, sandwiched between Marie and Jean, trying to pay attention to Finding Nemo and failing. His mind was too wrapped up in wishing he was dancing with Jean instead. He sighed, worming his way under the other teen's arm and resting his head on the smaller's chest. Jean ran his fingers through dark hair, kissing at his temple when he thought no one was looking. Marie leveled him with a glare though, showing she hadn't missed the display.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, tugging Marco out of his seat and towards the stairs. Marco went without too much protest, and their spots on the couch were quickly appropriated by several Bodt children who squabbled for a minute as they raced to get off the floor.

Once they were in their room, Jean closed the door, and pulled Marco closer for a kiss. The taller teen sighed, but returned the affection the best that he could. He let himself get swept up in the feeling, wanting to distract himself from his disappointment, so he squeaked with surprise when Jean suddenly shoved something against his chest.

He pulled back and looked down, finding that Jean had handed him a shirt. He was confused at first, but held it out to look. Then he scoffed, giving Jean a look.

"You're kidding." He accused. Jean only grinned, slipping an exact copy of the shirt over his own head. He reached for his innumerable bracelets, slipping them onto his wrists.

"Put it on." The two-toned teen commanded, reaching next for his deodorant. Marco groaned, but started taking his shirt off anyway.

"You cannot be serious." He grumbled, pulling the stupid tuxedo t-shirt over his head, looking down at his own chest with disdain. Jean grinned wolfishly, reaching into his bag and pulling out a little sprig of flowers, and Marco groaned. "Tell me you did not."

Jean didn't grace him with an answer, grabbing his shirt and easily sliding the pin of the boutonniere through the thin fabric. Marco covered his now red face, only moving his hand away when Jean slipped a matching flower into his hand. Though he shook his head at the ridiculous nature of the whole thing, he took his turn pinning the flower to Jean's shirt, latching his lips onto Jean's as soon as he was done.

"You are the stupidest, sweetest boyfriend in the whole world, and I don't care how many spikes you have on your bracelets or your jackets, you will never convince me otherwise." He gushed, arms wrapped tight around Jean's neck.

The one in question scoffed, pushing his boyfriend away gently.

"You mean that in a totally punk way, right?" He wondered. Marco rolled his eyes with a sigh. "And what makes you think we're done? Put on some deodorant, steal my cologne like you always do, and put some shoes on." He instructed.

Now Marco was worried. That made it sound an awful lot like they were going somewhere. But where would they go in their stupid tuxedo shirts and Converse? It didn't matter how many times he asked though, Jean wouldn't utter so much as a word, not even when he shoved Marco into the bathroom and proceeded to comb his hair for him.

And there was no warning before they were down the stairs and suddenly getting blinded by the flash of the infamous Bodt vacation camera. Marco whined, making an attempt at hiding himself behind his boyfriend's body.

"Moooom!" He cried, listening to the chorus of giggles from the crowd of children and his father. "Seriously? Did everyone but me know about this?" He demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Jean smirked, pulling him closer and posing appropriately for a prom photo.

Mrs. Bodt snapped more than too many, then tugged both boys down, planting wet kisses on their cheeks before shooing them out the door. Marco blinked, unable to argue as Jean dragged him to the car. He got in and buckled up, waiting till they were driving to ask.

"Alright, I'm in the car. Where are we going?" He inquired.

"That's for me to know, and you to find out." Jean replied cockily, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel to the shaky beat of a very angry sounding song. Marco sighed, rubbing at his eyes and settling in for the ride. So be it.

When they pulled up to a bar, he turned to give Jean a questioning look.

"I played along and came, but what, pray tell, are we doing at a bar?" He wondered. Surely Jean didn't intend to get drunk! That hadn't ended well the first time.

"Just trust me." Jean pled, parking the car and getting out. Marco followed with a sigh, entering the bar despite his concern over the fact that Jean had a key. He was surprised to find it totally unoccupied, not a soul in sight but the two of them. Granted, someone might have been lurking in the shadows, but it was too dark for him to make much out.

Jean flipped a switch, and some lights started coming on. They weren't super bright, but it was at least better than when there had been no lights at all. Marco took a few minutes to look around. It was honestly kind of run down. Not that he'd been to many bars, but he'd always heard about hopping clubs and flashing lights. This place looked to be pretty quiet. It had sort of a nostalgic charm though. He turned back to Jean.

"I'm serious Jean, what's going on?" He demanded, frowning. But Jean only shook his head, smiling.

"Go sit down for a bit, baby. I've got some stuff I've gotta do." He instructed, pointing to the bar. Marco threw his hands up in defeat, finding a barstool and planting himself in it, eyes trained carefully on Jean's movements. He watched the other teen mess with a few things, eyes lighting up when a line of Christmas lights came on, sparkling through different colored glass bottles.

Working his way around the room, Jean turned on about ten sets of these, then he returned to the bar area, lugging out an old stereo, which he promptly attached his IPod to. Marco watched, catching on to what was going on.

"Jean, seriously, when did you even find time-" He began, but Jean cut him off.

"I know a guy. Now are you gonna sit there and wonder how, or are you gonna come dance with me?" He asked, holding his hand out.

Marco stared at it for a good eight seconds, butterflies rising in his stomach as adoration overcame his senses, until he finally put his hand in Jean's letting the other teen pull him out to the empty floor. The music that started playing from the outdated stereo system was a little too fast for the dance Jean was trying to do, and the teen hadn't lied when he'd told Marco he was bad at dancing. But it didn't matter.

Marco couldn't have been happier than in that moment, swaying awkwardly in Jean's arms in the middle of an empty bar on prom night. Maybe it wasn't the infamous night of friends and spiked punch that he'd been expecting, but this impromptu imitation was even better. Stupid tux shirts and all.

Jean's head snapped up when the door opened, and he and Marco both turned towards the sound of a bell fixed to jingle when hit by the sturdy wood.

"Shit, I forgot to lock it back up." Jean hissed. "Uh, we're clos-" He began, calling to the person, but then they saw who it was. His huge form made him pretty recognizable, and they both blinked in surprise.

"R-Reiner?" Marco stammered. The hulking teen in question nodded his head, grinning in their direction. Bertholdt ducked under the doorway as well, offering a nervous smile.

"Erd tipped us off that you two were borrowing his place for gay prom." Reiner explained, gesturing to the bar. "We thought we'd supply some extra gay." He added gesturing to the both of them. Bertholdt started to turn red, the color pretty striking against the tux he was wearing. Reiner had one on too, and the two groaned.

"You guys have tickets to actual prom!" Jean groused. "What are you doing here?" He demanded. Reiner only barked a laugh, the sound filling up the space easily.

"You won't even believe how stupid it was. We went with Ymir and Krista, and were there for about ten minutes. They didn't even have spiked punch. Just water. And all they played was the nation's top twenty." He complained. "While I may not like your music, at least here I won't have to listen to Demi Lovato and Pink every other song."

Marco's lips pouted, limbs still wrapped around Jean in their dancing position.

"What's wrong with De-" He started.

"Baby, no." Jean interrupted, shaking his head. "Don't you say it."

"I seriously don't know why everyone hates-" Marco tried to continue, but he was again cut off.

"Shhh, sweetheart, one day you'll discover music that isn't popular, and become hipster trash just like Bertholdt over there." Jean promised, nodding to the tall boy in question. "Until then, just hush and listen to Star Fucking Hipsters." He cooed, gesturing to the stereo.

Marco was at a loss, but he didn't argue it further, instead turning back to the other two.

"So, uh, you guys are crashing our prom?" He wondered. Reiner grinned, grabbing Bertholdt's hand and pulling him onto the floor as well, initiating some strange dance that was still a million times more graceful than whatever Jean was attempting to do.

"We queers have to stick together." Reiner decided, kissing Bertholdt's cheek as he said it. Then it clicked for Marco.

"Oh." He breathed, blinking. "Oh!"

The other three looked at him with surprise, halting any movements that could be considered dancing to stare him down. Jean spoke first.

"Seriously?" He quipped, eyes wide.

"Alright, look, in my defense-" Marco began, face going red, but Reiner's booming laugh cut him off.

"You really didn't know?" Bertholdt wondered, barely audible over Reiner's laughter. Marco hid his face in Jean's shoulder, shaking his head slowly. Jean laughed too, the sound vibrating through his chest pleasantly.

"I just thought you guys were roommates or something." He admitted. Bertholdt was the only one not laughing at him, but even he couldn't help but smile.

"Well, we're that too. But we've been dating since middle school." He explained, patting Reiner's shoulder in hopes that he'd calm down. Marco groaned, still hiding his face in Jean's shoulder.

"Your gaydar is shitty." Reiner accused, finally calming himself down to snickers. It was Jean that threw him a look.

"Not everyone can be as accurate as you." He groused, trying to coax Marco out of his hiding spot. "It's infamous at this point." He added.

"Beep beep." Reiner droned, smirking as he returned to dancing with Bertholdt.

They were all quiet for a couple of minutes, then Marco made a noise of realization.

"Uh, if you guys were supposed to be at prom with Ymir and Krista, then what happened to them?" He wondered. As if on cue, the door opened again, and a familiar head of blonde hair poked in. When she saw the four gathered on the small dance floor, she smiled, opening the door fully.

"Ah, finally! We've been looking for this place all over!" She laughed, pulling a freckled girl that could only be Ymir in behind her. The taller girl sighed.

"You could have given us better directions, asshole." She growled at Reiner. He only shrugged, not paying her much mind in favor of spinning the awkward teen in his arms around a few times.

"Welcome to gay prom." He laughed, earning a scowl from the brunette girl.

"It's not even your gay prom." She snapped, and Marco turned to Jean.

"Uh, was this part of your plan?" He wondered, blinking owlishly. Jean rolled his eyes, sighing loud enough for Marco to hear him over the music.

"No." He groaned, hands resting on Marco's waist, still attempting to sway him back and forth. Ymir and Krista decided to join the fray, though Ymir didn't really dance as much as she rubbed her butt against Krista's pelvis. The blonde took it in stride though, playing along rather well for someone so innocent looking.

Marco smiled, kissing Jean's cheek.

"Well, the more the merrier, right?" He laughed, forcing Jean to at least attempt to turn a circle while they swayed. The other teen grumbled under his breath, but didn't say anything else on the matter, too focused on making sure he didn't step on Marco's feet.

After about ten minutes, Ymir started bickering about Jean's music, trying to switch it to her own IPod, so everyone took a break from dancing while the two went at it, no one daring to step in between them. They didn't stop arguing until the door opened again, revealing a group of four.

Armin smiled coyly, his lips as baby blue as his dress, and he had Eren by the hand. He walked over to Marco, and gave him a pointed look.

"Now, why did I have to learn about gay prom through Annie?" He demanded, hands on his hips.  
Marco blanched, looking behind Armin to see Mikasa and Annie had come as well. "I thought we were friends!" The blonde lamented dramatically. Marco smiled, shrugging.

"In my defense, I didn't know about gay prom until about forty-five minutes ago." He offered lamely. Armin rolled his eyes, then took a moment to spin around in his dress.

"Do you like it?" He wondered. Marco laughed, nodding.

"It's definitely your color." He agreed. And it was. Blue suited Armin marvelously. "I'm surprised they let you in with a dress though." He admitted. Armin nodded, pouting again.

"They almost didn't! But Eren nearly started a fight with the vice principal. It wasn't even worth it though. It sucked. This is already a hundred times better." He announced, winking at Marco before pulling Eren over to the dance floor, Mikasa and Annie not far behind. Ymir gave up on the music in favor of pelvic thrusting at Krista, so Jean returned to Marco's side, punk music still safely blaring out across the room.

"Well, what the fuck?" He wondered, and Marco giggled.

"Looks like we got to go to prom after all." The darker teen joked, pulling Jean back into his arms to resume their awkward swaying, actually managing to get his boyfriend's feet moving with a bit of effort.

The last addition to their little party was Connie and Sasha. They entered out of breath, both carrying big shopping bags, which they lugged over to the counter.

"Sorry we're late!" Sasha squeaked, pulling snacks out of the bags she'd been carrying and placing them on the counter. "We stopped to get the refreshments!" She explained. Connie hefted two huge bottles of Hawaiian Punch onto the bar with a grunt. Ymir moaned in annoyance.

"Who invited the heteros to gay prom?" She demanded. Sasha shrugged, shoving a cookie into her mouth.

"We go where the party is." She replied, locating a punch bowl among her bags and dumping the red juice in. Without chaperones, she dumped a whole bottle of vodka in without much remorse. Ymir quieted down at the sight, dragging Krista over to get a glass.

"And besides, we're kind of queer by proxy?" Connie tried, grabbing Sasha's hand before she could reach into a bag of chips and pulling her to the center of the room where everyone else was gathered.

No one questioned it, nor did anyone argue when Bertholdt eventually took over the stereo. His IPod had a more eclectic mix of music, so pretty much everyone was alright with it, aside from Jean who continued to demand to know what was so bad about his own music. It was his gay prom after all.

Marco hushed him with a kiss, laying his head on the other teen's shoulder as a slow song came on. Jean grumbled, but complied, doing his best to sway to the beat.

"Thank you, Jean." Marco breathed happily, finding he didn't really mind that Jean still had yet to attempt anything but the back and forth motion. In his mind, it was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been feeling really blah here lately. I know that's a weird way to feel, but I can't think of another way to sum it up. I guess meh. I've been feeling meh.
> 
> I haven't been too excessively busy, but it's been hard for me to find motivation to write. Well, I've still been writing, it's just hard for me to focus on any one story at a time. I've been jumping around a lot, which makes it sort of hard to update, hence why I've slowed down.
> 
> Excuses, excuses.
> 
> Well, regardless, I hope you enjoyed the first installment of gay prom. And yes, there is a second installment. Rejoice. Maybe it's just me, but I really love these two chapters a lot. It was a lot of fun writing all of these queers at once. They're all interesting characters, and shoving them all into one scene is hectic but entertaining.
> 
> I sort of have headcanonons for what all of them would wear, but I've only managed to draw Armin and Annie thus far. Maybe I should hire someone to do it for me… Alas, I haven't any money. Armin's dress is already posted on tumblr, though I haven't gotten past the sketch phase for Annie's. But you know, you guys are free to imagine what they'd look like for yourselves. That's half the fun of reading!
> 
> Before I leave you, I'd like to mention that I've begun posting a new JeanMarco story. It's called Where Wildflowers Grow. Just to warn you; It's nowhere near as lighthearted as this story. It's meant to be a lot more serious, but I'm seriously in love with the story. I wrote literally ten chapters in the span of about two weeks, which is a feat for me. I've currently only got the first chapter up, but it should be updating soon, if you'd like to check it out. It will only hurt a little. ^.-
> 
> Alright now I bid you goodbye! Thank you all for the feedback and whatnot, and if you have time, I can always use more. And, as always, you can tag anything related to this fic with: fic tmttr. Thanks for reading!
> 
> KuroRiya
> 
> 九六りや


	10. Chapter 10

Marco tried to convince himself that drinking the Hawaiian Punch was a bad idea. He really tried. After all, his first drinking experience hadn't exactly been a fantastic one. Not bad, but he could still remember how much it hurt to vomit for what was probably a good five hours. He could still taste the acid on his tongue if he tried. But still, it was gay prom, everyone else was having some, and he really liked Hawaiian Punch. A lot.

Even though it had a bite to it, the flavor was still there. Jean gave him a pointed look, and gave him only one warning.

"Be careful, babe. Fruity drinks. Pony tattoos."

Marco had laughed, but he kept it in mind, sipping slowly.

At some point, everyone had broken off to do different activities. A few, like Ymir and Krista, continued dancing long after everyone else had stopped for a break. Connie and Sasha, after dancing for about five minutes in a strange, birdlike manner excused themselves for a few minutes to take a hit in the bathroom, and came back giggly. About ten minutes after that, the majority of the snacks mysteriously disappeared.

Armin had already littered Eren's face with baby blue lip prints, and Marco had witnessed him coyly reapplying the lipstick more than a once. The brunette was properly embarrassed, but was starting to loosen up as he had more of the punch. Marco sympathized, recognizing the nervousness with which Eren took his first few drinks as inexperience. But, just like Marco, he became a lot bolder once he'd found his buzz.

Marco pulled Armin aside for a moment, bending just a little to whisper in his ear.

"If you want any action from him besides vomiting tonight, I suggest you get him to slow down." He cautioned. Armin blushed faintly under his makeup, but nodded, taking Eren's cup away and downing it himself before pulling him back to where Ymir and Krista were still at it, carefully spinning him a few times while avoiding his clumsy limbs. Eren looked a little disappointed, but he didn't bother complaining after Armin pressed another kiss to his lips.

Reiner and Bertholdt had taken a seat at the bar, simply talking to each other while nursing some punch. Berthold only drank one the entire night, as far as anyone knew. It was for the best though, because he ended up giving most of them a ride home, much to Reiner's chagrin. Annie and Mikasa had gone behind the counter of the bar at some point and hadn't been seen for a good half hour. Nobody dared check on them.

Once everyone but Bertholdt had a pretty good buzz going, Connie and Sasha, snickering, turned down the music and got up on the bar, hollering for everyone to gather around. It took some effort, but everyone managed to crowd around the two, and they waited till everyone was quiet before giving their announcement.

"Alright queers!" Sasha shouted unnecessarily loud. There was a collective groan. "Oh hush. I have something you're all going to love!" She promised. Connie snickered, grabbing another plastic sack and pulling out two cheap dress-up princess crowns. Another collective groan.

"It's time to announce the gay prom king and king!" Sasha declared with a squeal, taking one of the crowns from Connie. "It was a close vote, but unfortunately, there can only be one win… Er, two winners!"

Marco could hear someone's foot tapping impatiently, and someone was grumbling under their breath.

"I guess me, Krista, Mikasa, and Annie are out of the running then." Ymir groused. The two latter girls poked their heads over the counter, Mikasa's lipstick smeared incriminatingly.

"Armin too." Mikasa added, a small smirk playing at her lips.

"Hey!" Armin cried, stamping his foot. "Wearing a skirt does not constitute as a changed gender!" He argued. Mikasa's smirk only grew.

"She's just teasing, Armin." Eren promised, hushing the blonde effectively.

Sasha cleared her throat, arms crossing over her chest in annoyance.

"If you all don't shut up, I'm going to keep the crown for myself." She warned. Most of them didn't care, but they hushed anyway. The faster they got Sasha off the bar, the sooner they didn't have to worry about taking her to the hospital if she fell. Seemingly pleased by her ability to hush a crowd, she did a little twirl.

"Okay, the voters have spoken!" She began, and Ymir scoffed.

"I don't remember voting." She groused. Sasha sighed dramatically.

"The voters, with the exception of Ymir, have spoken!" She corrected. Krista giggled. "The prom king and king of this year's gay prom aaaaaaare-" She paused, likely for effect, then pointed dramatically to where Marco was whispering something to Jean. "Jean and Marco!" She crooned. The two blinked, looking first at each other, then at Sasha.

After a small stare down, everyone started clapping with feigned enthusiasm, a few of them laughing and patting them on the back. Sasha waved them up, and even though they tried to protest, Reiner took it upon himself to heft them both up onto the bar, where they awkwardly held onto one another in hopes of staying upright on the counter.

Sasha tried to reach up and put the plastic crown upon Marco's head, and Connie did the same with Jean, but neither could reach. Sasha whined low in her throat, beckoning Marco down, as if she wanted to say something to him. But when he bent down, she simply pushed the crown onto his head, grinning triumphantly.

Connie wasn't having nearly as easy of a time, Jean stubbornly moving out of the way every time the shorter male tried to get the accessory on. Taking pity on the boy, Marco took the crown and easily placed it on the designated recipient, much to Jean's horror.

"Baby!" He yelped, hands already coming up to remove the cheap tiara. Marco stopped him though, kissing his cheek in a bid to placate him.

"If I have to wear one, so do you." He said with a small smile. "Don't worry. It's totally punk." He added, a smirk playing at his lips. Jean growled and rolled his eyes, but his arms fell to his sides stiffly, leaving the crown where it was, fake silver paint, plastic gems and all. A small cheer rose from the small crowd, then Sasha turned the music back up, shoving the two teens off the bar and towards the floor. She fussed with Bertholdt's IPod for a few seconds, then hummed happily, the song that was on stopping abruptly and changing to something else.

The pace was a lot slower, and everyone was grinning cheekily at them. It took a few seconds for Marco to realize what was going on, and when he did, it was with a sigh of resignation. Before the other teen could complain, he pulled Jean close, forcing him into some semblance of a waltz, minus the grace and the sweeping movements. At least they were attempting a sloppy box step, instead of just swaying. The others wanted a show, after all.

Marco recognized the song, which was a surprise. So far, he'd only known a few, and pretty much everyone had given Bertholdt dirty looks for even having them on his IPod in the first place. But the most reaction he got out of Jean for this one was a small groan. Marco smiled though. He liked this song.

"Kiss me out of the bearded barley. Nightly, beside the green, green grass-"

"Jesus Christ, baby, no." Jean moaned, trying to push himself out of the dance weakly, attempt entirely unsuccessful. Marco only grinned, holding fast to his boyfriend, voice getting louder as he sang along.

"Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight-"

"Fucking hell!" Jean cried, covering Marco's mouth with his own, effectively cutting him off this time. Marco giggled, continuing the little box step, but kept quiet as Jean kissed him.

Luckily for the two-toned brunette, Reiner pulled Bertholdt out to join the dance, and Krista convinced Ymir to stop grinding long enough to share the dance as well. About halfway through, everyone was back out on the floor, even Annie and Mikasa. Marco knew that for sure, because he almost stepped on Annie's floor length red dress. He would have regretted it even if he didn't fear the blonde, for it was such a gorgeous dress.

Jean pulled away, and they simply danced for a bit, but Marco couldn't help himself as the end of the song came, and he smiled softly.

"Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling."

Jean looked like he was about to complain again, but the song ended with only one more line.

"So kiss me." Marco breathed, looking at Jean through his thick lashes. And even he could see that Jean swooned a little bit, regardless of his feelings towards the song. That made his heartbeat quicken. So did the kiss he received.

After the slow dance, everyone went back to what they had been doing. Connie and Sasha ended up having to step out to get more snacks and punch, but it wasn't a long trip at all. Marco tried to ask where they were getting their alcohol, but Connie tactfully turned the music up, making it too loud for Sasha's response to be heard.

It was nearing one in the morning when Marco learned something new about Jean. While the other teen claimed he couldn't dance, he was very, very skilled at doing some strange movement to shitty dubstep. Everyone, even Marco, groaned when it came on, looking at Bertholdt with malice. But all of the attention went to Jean, who had started doing some intensely odd but incredibly mesmerizing dance of sorts, moving his body fluidly and with precision.

No one could even say anything for a while, then Eren whistled.

"Holy shit Horse-Face." He laughed, nodding in approval. "Even I have to admit, that's pretty cool."

Jean stopped, seeming to realize that he was, in fact, surrounded by people and in a public place. His face went red, and he quickly scurried over to Marco's side.

"Fuck, baby, why did you let me do that?" He demanded. Marco quirked a brow.

"Uh, because you are not a Sim, and I therefore don't have control over your free-will." He replied, sass in rare form thanks to the punch. "And because it was cool." He added. Jean groaned.

"I've had too much. Fruity drinks, man. They fuck with me." He grumbled.

There was a collective request for more, and Jean tried to bury himself into Marco's shoulder, to little avail. Eren, with a smirk on his face, pulled Jean back, going as far as to dare him to do it again. It took another glass of spiked punch, but they eventually got him moving again, and he wasn't complaining about the attention in the end.

When the song (or what some might call a song) was over, he returned to Marco's side, laughing as Sasha handed him another cup.

"Well, still think I'm cool?" He asked, hand coming up to make sure the crown was still properly perched atop his head. Marco giggled, nodding as he stole the cup and took a drink before handing it back.

"Totally punk." He agreed, licking over his front teeth to make sure that the punch wouldn't stain them. Jean watched the movement carefully, still smiling.

"Super punk?" He wondered, for clarification. Marco rolled his eyes, kissing the other boy's cheek.

"Hella." He decided. Jean scoffed, setting the already empty cup down on the bar.

"Did you seriously just say-" He began, but Eren cut him off, walking up as if he had a purpose. Marco silently began to fret, remembering Armin's warning about Jean's history with Eren. Jean himself stiffened. But Eren didn't even say anything at first, reaching across to pour himself another glass of punch. Armin, who had followed behind, sighed, blue lips pulled into a cute little pout.

Once he'd poured himself a drink and had about half of it, Eren turned to Jean.

"Alright, look Horse Fa-Er, Jean. I, uh…" He began, looking down at the bright red liquid for a moment. "I guess I wanna apologize for always fucking shit up with you, you know?" He managed. Jean looked surprised, and Armin looked like he'd just seen a talking dick. Eren took another drink, then opened his mouth again.

"I dunno why we're always fighting and shit, but like… I don't hate you or anything." He explained, biting his lip. "I just… I dunno. You were kind of a fucking brat when we were younger." He remembered, tone a little biting. "You still had your mom, and I was fucking jealous, cause you know, mine had died, and I guess that's kind of why I started picking fights. You just… You were always such an ass about it, and I just… I was jealous." He admitted. He took a few steps until he was next to Armin, draping his arm over the smaller boy's shoulder.

"But like, the past is in the past, you know?" He wondered, gesturing with the hand he was using to hold the cup, the remaining liquid sloshing a bit. Marco gave Armin a look, and the blonde shrugged with exasperation. "I heard about your mom a few years ago, and man, I'm sorry. And I don't wanna fight anymore. I just wanna dance, and fuc-kiss Armin, and I just wanted to tell you, because you aren't actually a bad guy." He finished. Or so they thought. Jean opened his mouth to reply, but Eren cut him off.

"Cause I mean, you wear some scary ass clothes. Like, I'm used to Armin at this point-" The boy in question narrowed his eyes and elbowed the brunette in the ribs. "Ow! But anyway, like, what the fuck is even up with your clothes? Where do you find all this spiky stuff, and the chains. Like, is there some secret back part of Goodwill that I don't know about?" He wondered, brows furrowed. Jean just sort of stared for a long time, then he nodded.

"Yeah. How'd you know?" He asked sarcastically. Marco nudged him, giving him a warning look. Eren's eyes went wide, nearly hitting Armin as he pointed excitedly at Jean.

"I knew it! I fucking knew it!" He cried, earning the attention of some of the other teens. "How do you get back there?" He demanded.

Marco groaned, and Jean was trying his best to conceal his snickers. Even Armin was hiding a few giggles as Eren animatedly spilled his drink.

"Well, you see, you have to sort of look like a punk, you know?" Jean said. Again, Marco nudged him. "They have to see you and think 'wow, look at this badass.'" He continued, despite Marco's insistence. Eren nodded enthusiastically, stepping a little closer.

"What about me isn't badass?" He asked earnestly, and Jean scoffed.

"I wish I could say there was only one thing…" He trailed. Eren frowned deeply, looking down at himself. "But if I were you, I'd start with your hair." Jean added.

It seemed to click, and Eren nodded thoughtfully.

"Huh, yeah… I sort of always get the same cut." He admitted, turning to Armin and taking his hand. "Yeah! Come on! Let's go cut my hair!" He cried, tugging on the smaller boy's arm. Armin groaned, doing his best to stay put.

"Not tonight Eren. If you still want to cut it when you're sober, then we can talk." He replied. Eren groaned, tugging harder.

"I'm not even drunk!" He promised, though everyone in the room would beg to differ. Armin sighed, rubbing at his temple with his free hand.

"Okay Eren. I'm still not going to let you cut your hair right now." He said with force, tugging the other boy back towards him and planting a powder blue kiss on his cheek. "We have other things to do tonight." He whispered. Marco still heard it though, and his face went red.

"Aaaalright, well, we're going to go, uh… Dance. Over there." He announced awkwardly, pulling Jean along behind him. His boyfriend gave him a look, but followed anyway. When they were far enough away, Marco sighed. "Sorry, but I didn't really want to hear what exactly Armin is planning to do with Eren tonight." He explained.

Jean's eyes lit up with understanding, and he made a face.

"Oh god. Well, I wish him luck. Eren's sloshed. He fucking apologized to me." He snickered. Marco shook his head, but smiled as well.

"I tried to warn him." He lamented, actually pulling Jean back into dancing. When Jean tried to pull away, Marco fixed him with a look. "You are going to dance with me until my legs give out if you want any sort of affection from me tonight." He warned, and Jean's eyes went wide.

"Oh?" He breathed, body swaying obediently. "What sort of affection are we talking?" He wondered. Marco only smiled coyly, finger coming up to tap against his lips. Jean pouted, the effect sort of ruined by his snake bites. "Come on babe, at least a hint. Are we talking cuddling, or like, what Armin wants?"

Marco shuddered, looking over at the blonde in question, who was currently pressing Eren against the wall and kissing him almost furiously. That was a sight to see in itself.

"I don't think Armin even knows what he wants." Marco pointed out. Jean rolled his eyes.

"Come on sweetheart, quit avoiding the question." He requested, spinning Marco with as much grace as he could muster. The brunette chuckled, nearly falling as he tried to spin in Jean's arms.

"Well, I guess I'm sort of like Armin." He decided. "I don't really know what I want." He added, looking through his lashes again, watching a flush creep over Jean's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohh, sorry if the editing is a little shaky. I looked over it when I was super tired, but I wanted to get this chapter up pretty quickly, since it’s sort of directly connected with the previous chapter. The next one ties in a bit too, but this one is more direct, you know?
> 
> Anyway, thanks, as always, for waiting so patiently for me to get this up. I seemed to think that working on three stories at once was a good idea, and while that’s good for me, it’s bad for you! I work best when I have a variety of things I can work on. But because I’m dividing my attention, it takes me longer to get each one out. But, you know, you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do.
> 
> So, I haven’t got much to say? Not too much has changed since last time, except my computer background. I’ve been hella busy at work, that’s for sure. I’ll have worked 8 days in a row by the next time I get a day off. But, you know, that’s more money for me, I suppose. I’ll need it, seeing as I’m moving out soon. 
> 
> That’s sort of scary, to be honest. We went and looked at a couple of places today, and it’s sort of setting in what I’m getting myself into. But I need my own space, that’s for sure. Still, I’m going to need to start getting stuff. Kitchenware and furniture, and… So much. 
> 
> Oh, you know, speaking of; I set up a gofundme. For those who don’t know what that is, it’s a site where you can basically set up a charity for your personal or group needs. Mine is set up for my school expenses, since I know it’s going to be pretty tough for me to afford school and a place to live all on my cashier’s paycheck. I won’t beg you guys to donate or anything, because I personally understand how hard it can be to get money, especially enough to spare. But you know, the more you get a page out, the more likely you are to succeed. So if you do want to check it out, even if just to see a terrible picture of my not-cute face, you can find it here: http://www.gofundme.com/bkovew 
> 
> Well, alright, beyond that, I’ll just mention my other JeanMarco story again! It’s called Where Wildflowers Grow, and is currently up to two chapters. I’ll post the third probably tonight or tomorrow. It’s actually gotten a bit more attention than I expected, but I’d be forever thankful if you checked it out as well. It’s very different from this story though, so just be forewarned. Here’s a link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1919013 (If you want to read it on fanfiction or devi, just search it up or check my profile! 
> 
> So, wow, this author note wound up being way longer than I initially anticipate. Sorry for rambling. Alright, well, have a lovely day, and thank you, as always, for reading. Feedback is appreciated! 
> 
> KuroRiya  
> 九六りや


	11. Chapter 11

It took a good four hours to finally shoo everyone out of the small bar so that Jean could lock it back up again. Annie and Mikasa left first, of their own accord. Mikasa paused to ask Armin if he had intentions of taking Eren home, since the boy in question was obviously very drunk and in no state to drive. When the blonde nodded, she took off, almost like she was racing Annie to get out first.

Armin followed a few minutes after, dragging Eren behind him with a sigh when the brunette aggressively attempted to sing along to the song that came on. He waved a short goodbye to Marco, winking and blowing him a baby blue kiss before he let the door shut behind him.

Jean was clearly antsy to get going too, hands grabbing at Marco's bottom whenever he thought he could afford it, casually hinting to everyone that they should get the fuck out. Of course, the others were either too drunk to pick up on it, or were purposefully ignoring it, for Reiner, Bertholdt, Ymir, and Krista could not be removed from the dance floor.

Connie and Sasha alternated between munching on every leftover crumb they could find, giggling madly, and interrupting the other couples while the tried to dance by cutting in and initiating as many lewd dances as they possibly could. But when their high started to dissipate, they apparently got bored, and excused themselves for the evening, claiming it was time to go to Steak and Shake.

It still took a while to get everyone else out, but finally the other two couples got annoyed enough with Jean that they bid goodbye, leaving the two teens to clean up the aftermath. Jean groaned when he realized this, handing Marco the trashcan from behind the bar and instructing him to follow behind while he picked everything up.

In this fashion, they were done in about thirty minutes, and Jean went around, turning everything off. But still, Marco insisted they do one more once-over.

"I don't want your friend to hate us if we left some horrific mess, you know? What if someone puked or something?" He offered, bending down next to the counter to check that everything was in order. Jean groaned.

"Christ, baby!" He growled. Marco jumped, head whipping around to look at Jean. The other teen was flushed, eyes trained on his boyfriend as he pulled his shirt down a bit. Marco looked down to where Jean was fidgeting, realizing with a bit of a start how horny Jean apparently was.

"U-Um-" Marco stuttered, face going just as red as Jean's. "How long have you…" He trailed, standing up. Jean huffed, letting his shirt go. Marco had seen the incriminating hard-on anyway.

"Too fucking long." He hissed, grabbing the taller teen by the hips and pressing him against the bar, slotting their mouths together a little too eagerly. Marco yelped, but tried to relax, hoping that Jean would calm down if he had something to keep him going until they could get home.

But, to his surprise, Jean was suddenly a lot less ready to get going. On the contrary, he laid the dark-haired boy out on the counter, shoving his way between awkwardly parted legs and draping himself over so that he could continue kissing at bruising lips. It started out sort of needy, but melted into something a bit more languid, slow.

Marco wasn't sure what he liked better. He liked it when Jean was passionate, but honestly, being kissed tenderly was nice too. He could feel Jean's lips, wet against his own, could feel the smooth coldness from the snake bites, could feel the slow breaths taken through the other's nose. It made his head spin.

He felt Jean's lips come away from his own with a soft puckering sound, then they started mapping out a path down his neck, sucking gently just underneath the collar of the stupid tuxedo shirt. It made his knees shake where they rested against Jean's obnoxiously bony hips.

"Mmm, Jean?" Marco breathed, hands torn between pushing his boyfriend away and pulling him closer. "What are you-" He began, but Jean cut him off, rolling his hips gently against Marco's, whining low in his throat. Marco too groaned, toes curling in his Chucks as his legs rose almost involuntarily to wrap around Jean's waist.

"J-Jean, we can't… Not here!" He cried, back arching as Jean traced his nipples through his shirt despite his protest.

"Why not?" Jean wondered, voice a bit husky. "No one's here. I locked the door behind Reiner and Bertholdt." He pointed out. Marco just shook his head.

"It's a public place! And… And it's not yours!" He argued. Jean only smiled wryly.

"If you think we'd be the first people to fuck in here, you're wrong, Sweetheart." He laughed, rocking his hips again, earning a low moan.

"But-!" Marco tried, cutting himself off with a breathy gasp. Even though he desperately didn't want to do something like this in a crummy bar shoved into some remote corner of downtown, he couldn't deny that he was getting aroused by Jean's ministrations. Nor could he deny that it felt good when Jean tugged his shirt up and started sucking at his nipples.

"And," Jean added, smirking. "Your family can't hear us or walk in on us." He supplied smugly. He had every right to be smug, because he had a point. That was reason enough for Marco.

"God, fine!" The darker teen whined, pulling Jean closer with his legs. "But I swear, if someone walks in or sees us through the window, I will never forgive you!" He huffed, arms coming up to wrap around Jean's neck so he could tug him down into a rough kiss.

Jean smirked, rubbing a few patterns into Marco's hips before fussing with his clothes impatiently. Marco whimpered, shifting just enough for Jean to get his jeans down over his hips, his face already alight with embarrassment. Eyes darting more than once over to the windows in nervousness.

"Ah, Jean, I think that's all I can…" He trailed, covering his blush with his hands as much as he could. Jean stopped tugging on the pants, nodding.

"Alright babe, that's fine." He promised, leaning down to kiss Marco's stomach before he worked on his underwear. Once he had them down, he started palming the teen, free hand lifting one of his legs for better access.

Marco moaned, from embarrassment or arousal, he wasn't entirely sure. It was still stressful to be showing Jean those parts of him, but Jean seemed pretty happy about it, leaning down and planting a kiss to the shaft. The bigger teen shuddered, hips trembling with excitement.

But he felt bad. Last time, Jean had pleasured him so thoroughly, and then had gotten himself off. That hardly seemed fair, and Marco didn't want that again. After a moment of mental debate, he pushed Jean away, much to his boyfriend's surprise. He didn't give him a chance to question it though, shifting until he was lying along the length of the bar instead of half of his body hanging off.

Once he was situated, he beckoned Jean over, pulling him up onto the counter as well, then working at his jeans, pulling them down just like his own. Jean groaned as his own erection was released, and he pressed against Marco's body hungrily, rocking his hips sharply, earning a moan from them both.

Marco keened low in his throat as Jean did it again, and again, then began meeting the thrusts as best he could, face feeling hot and red as he processed what he was doing. With Jean pressed against him like that, he could feel everything and it was driving him entirely mad.

"Je-An!" He gasped, breath hitching from a particularly rough meeting of their hips. Jean groaned as well, hungrily covering Marco's lips with his own and tasting the curves and ridges of his mouth, coated thinly with lingering fruit flavoring from the punch. He hummed appreciatively.

"Baby-" He cooed, kissing along the freckled boy's jaw, sucking hard enough in a few spots to guarantee some hickeys. Marco gasped underneath him, arms clamping around Jean's hips and pulling him down as hard as he could, grinding desperately up into his pelvis. "Fuck!" The smaller cursed, biting his lip against the pleasure.

In this fashion, it didn't take long for the both of them to come, Jean first, but quickly followed by his boyfriend. They couldn't move for a bit, just lying against each other on the counter, but Jean finally found it in him to roll off and land shakily on the ground, tucking himself back into his pants before helping Marco up to do the same.

They both winced at the new stains on the stupid tuxedo shirts, but honestly, it wasn't much of a loss in Marco's opinion. With a bit of wobbling, they made it out the door and to Jean's car, simply sitting in it with the air conditioner running for a few minutes, letting the lyrics of some obscure Fall Out Boy song playing draw them into a strange haze of afterglow.

"This song is terrible." Marco breathed. Jean scoffed, turning it up a little.

"Says the guy that knew every word to 'Kiss Me.'" He retorted. Marco shrugged, trying to find something likable about the song. "But you're right, it sucks." Jean eventually agreed.

When it started to get chilly in the little car, Jean put it into gear, heading for Marco's house with a sort of practiced familiarity that made Marco smile, leaning over to plant a kiss on the pale teen's cheek, since he couldn't hold his hand. He liked the way that red began to creep up Jean's neck, and grinned, leaning back into his chair and closing his eyes, toes flexing lazily in his shoes.

They tried to be quiet when they got to the house, shutting the door slowly and sitting down to take off their shoes to make sure that they wouldn't fall. But Jean forgot about the creaky fourth step, and they both cringed as the wood squealed in protest, the sound echoing through the house. They paused, hoping that anyone that woke up would simply go back to sleep if there was no more noise.

But, of course, the hallway light flickered on, revealing Mrs. Bodt's figure tapping towards them in her bathrobe and slippers. They shared a look of resignation, coming back down the stairs to meet her.

When she was before them, she glanced at the clock, frowning.

"Do you two realize what time it is?" She hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. Marco bit his lip, looking at the clock too, because no, he didn't have any idea what time it was.

It was nearing four in the morning. He gulped.

"U-Um…" He stuttered, looking to Jean for any help the other teen could offer.

"We, uh, had to wait for everyone to leave, since I had to lock the place up." Jean provided. Mrs. Bodt quirked a brow.

"Everyone?" She prompted. Marco nodded quickly.

"Yeah, our friends crashed the party." He explained. She blinked, then resumed her scolding posture.

"Well, that's all well and good, but I get the feeling something else held you up." She mused, looking pointedly at the hem of first Marco's, then Jean's shirt. They both followed her gaze, then rushed to cover the stains up with mortification.

Mrs. Bodt smiled wryly, tapping her slippered foot.

"You two are absolutely terrible at being discreet." She pointed out, rolling her big brown eyes. Marco whined, burying his face in Jean's shoulder and wishing he was dead.

"And one of you is drunk." She added, sniffing. Marco froze, shoulders going tense. "At least, it better be only one of you, seeing as you drove home."

Again, Marco winced. Jean had only had two cups. Was that enough to be drunk? But Jean wouldn't drive them home drunk. He wouldn't put them in that sort of danger.

"Seeing as you don't have a license," She began, looking at Marco pointedly. "You'd better be the drunk one." She finished, voice menacing. As scared as he was to admit that he'd been drinking, he was even more scared of what she'd do if she thought that Jean had driven drunk.

"U-Um, yeah, it's me." He admitted, looking down to avoid seeing her reaction. It was quiet for a few painstaking moments, then she sighed.

"Just be careful." She warned, patting his shoulder. "Don't overdo it."

She then turned to Jean.

"And you," She prompted. Jean stood up straight, eyes wide. "Make sure you look after him."

Jean's mouth fell open, but he nodded in what was meant to be a reassuring manner.

"Of course!" He promised, hand darting out to take Marco's protectively. After a short stare down, she waved them off, turning to head back to her bedroom. "You're on trash duty till further notice." Was her last bit of conversation before she closed her door, ignoring the quiet groans from the two teens.

They remained frozen at the foot of the stairs for a few seconds, unsure of which was more horrible; that they'd been caught again, or that they'd been assigned trash duty. That was no easy chore in the Bodt household.

Deciding to suspend their grieving till the next day, they crept up the stairs, slipping into their room and shutting the door quietly before flopping into bed, snuggling on top of the covers and lazily taking off their clothes until they were in their boxers, at which point they flailed uselessly until they were somehow under the blankets. Marco scooted over until he could wedge himself against Jean's side, resting his head on the other teen's chest and sighing happily, listening to the beating of his heart. It was soft, and almost steady, but it'd pick up whenever Marco stole a kiss or trailed his fingers over sensitive skin.

Jean took to rubbing gently at his boyfriend's back, kissing his forehead in retaliation every time Marco would peck his collar or shoulder. It wasn't too long before they started to feel the exhaustion of alcohol and orgasm wash over them, and their shows of affection became less frequent until they stopped completely, melting away into soft snores instead of kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. I don't remember if I mentioned it, but I've just moved out, so it's been pretty hectic. I'm actually posting this from my mom's house, since I'm here doing laundry. WLBTW was actually supposed to update next, but I unfortunately started that chapter on my other computer, and can't access it till we have the computer set up at my place, so I thought I'd go ahead and get to the next one. So here's your chapter.
> 
> This one is kind of just smutty. The last two chapters were sort of the buildup. More plot to come in the next chapters, promise. But apparently people like it when characters do the do or something like that. So I hope you enjoyed it, or whatever.
> 
> Teenage boys are so awkward. Like, wow. To think, I lived with one for a while. Poor kid is trying to move out of my mom's house too, but he's having a rougher time. Wish my wittle cousin luck. He needs it!
> 
> As for me… Well, I'm getting adjusted. I definitely like the new place, but I'm going to have to pay rent for the first time in a week or so! Scary! It's starting to feel like home, though, which is a start. We're getting things put together, and even have some posters and wallscrolls up!
> 
> Alright, well, I've got a date with my roommate and a pool. Before I go thought, I do have a tumblr, for those that might have forgotten! You can find me under KuroRiya. (That's true for pretty much any site, honestly.) And if you have anything related to this story that you want me to see, from questions to concerns, to art and hate, you can tag it with fic tmttr OR KuroRiya, and I will see it and love it and probably message you crying about my undying love for you. Or something. You.
> 
> And, I'd also like to shamelessly advertise my other JeanMarco story yet again. It's called Where Wildflowers Grow, and is now up to 4 chapters. I'll probably update it either tonight or tomorrow too, so if you like my writing, you might give it a try.
> 
> Off I go! Thank you guys for reading and being patient and stuff. I'll try to get all my stuff figured out so I can update regularly again. Till then, feedback is always appreciated, and you guys are super great!
> 
> KuroRiya
> 
> 九六りや


	12. Chapter 12

They were woken much too early by a certain Marie Bodt. The girl let herself in and proceeded to bounce on top of their bodies until they groaned and blinked their way into the realm of the living. Marie giggled with glee at her accomplishment, leaning down and smooching Marco's cheek.

"Morning!" She chirped. Marco grumbled out some incoherent response, dark lashes closing again as he rolled over, making Marie bounce for a moment until she came to rest on his hip instead of his waist. She smiled an almost evil smile, but then seemed to remember Jean, narrowing her eyes and looking his way.

He blinked at the little menace, almost frightened. But, after a bit of harsh scrutiny, she leaned down with apparent reluctance and smooched his cheek as well. Jean stared at her, but eventually broke into a grin, grabbing the brunette and shoving her between himself and Marco, trapping her between their bodies.

She squealed, chubby freckled Bodt arms and legs flailing as she did her best to escape, to no avail. Marco too turned over, roused from his dozing by the high pitched cries of his sister, and proceeded to squish her against his chest, dancing his fingers along her ribs until she was almost screaming with laughter.

When the poor girl was finally released, she laid against Marco's chest, panting in a bid to catch her breath, thoroughly exhausted from the sneak attack that Jean had launched. Marco chuckled, taking the opportunity to lean over and plant a kiss to Jean's lips, smiling when the other teen groggily returned it.

Marie huffed, turning over to lie on her stomach, staring up at the two.

"No kissing!" She screeched, dark brows knit. Marco scoffed, booping her nose.

"It's my room, I can kiss him all I want." He reasoned, kissing his boyfriend again for good measure. Marie's nose wrinkled in distaste, and she sighed dramatically. Marco only smirked, grabbing her face and planting one on her as well. She shrieked, wiping her mouth roughly and glaring at Marco.

"You stole my first kiss!" She growled, brown eyes narrow. Marco rolled his eyes.

"Marie, that's hardly the first time I've kissed you. And family kisses don't count." He pointed out. She seemed to ponder that, then her gaze softened.

"Oh, okay." She agreed, settling down on the bed again. Jean snickered from where he was watching, leaning over to steal another kiss. Marco chuckled, brushing his nose against Jean's.

"Did you get jealous?" He wondered. Jean made a whiny noise, scooting closer and smooshing Marie between their legs, much to the girl's chagrin.

"You know I did." He agreed, grabbing Marco and initiating an Eskimo kiss, ignoring the groans from the girl still wedged between them.

"You two are so gross!" She complained, trying to tug herself out from between them. The teens snickered, only snuggling closer, batting their lashes at their smaller companion. Marco reached for her, dragging her up higher so he could hug her to his chest, receiving only protests for his efforts. Jean joined in, effectively crushing her.

"I hate you!" She swore, pushing away from Marco roughly, finding herself utterly trapped. Marco only laughed, wrapping his legs around her too.

"We looooove you!" He singsonged, and Jean laughed as well, hugging her tighter. Marie went limp in their arms, then turned to Jean, narrowing her eyes.

"You too?" She demanded. Jean blinked, arms loosening around her tiny frame.

"Huh?" He prompted cleverly. She whooped, finally escaping Marco's arms.

"Do you love me, too?" She elaborated once she'd righted herself.

The two freckled siblings watched Jean's face go a few different shades of red, but he finally managed to squeak out a tiny yes, and Marie burst into a fit of delighted giggles.

"I love you too, Jean!" She cooed, leaping off the bed and running down the hallway, bare feet slapping against the hardwood loudly until she hit the ground floor and her footsteps disappeared along with her giddy laughs.

After letting him fester for a few seconds, Marco coaxed Jean out of the pillows, kissing his nose before shoving him out of bed. He nearly fell, but managed to catch himself just in time, and he threw a dangerous look over his shoulder to his boyfriend who was too busy snickering to pay him any mind.

Somehow convincing himself not to tackle Marco back into the bed, Jean headed for the bathroom, Marco went downstairs to use the other one, and they met in the kitchen. Marco was a bit surprised to see all of his siblings sitting in the living room, looking at him expectantly as soon as he'd exited the bathroom. He couldn't count the pairs of brown eyes before he gave into the pressure.

"What do you all want?" He demanded, looking at them suspiciously.

"Food!" Was the immediate reply. He quirked a brow, looking at them all curiously.

"Uh, that's what mom and dad are for?" He tried.

"Mom went shopping and dad got called in to work." Nardo piped up from his spot on the couch. Marco blinked, then buried his face in his hands. So that's why Marie had bothered to get them up.

"Oh god. What do you guys want?" He wondered, voice small and scared. Sure enough, a chorus of voices rang out.

"Pancakes!"

"Bacon!"

"Nachos!"

He winced, eying his siblings with contempt.

"I am NOT making Nachos." He announced, and Arturo sent a glare his way. "Breakfast foods only." He added.

There was some squabbling, but Marco managed to escape without any casualties, quickly joined by Jean, a look of concern lacing his features.

"It sounds like there's a riot out there!" He mused, watching Marco slide food out of the refrigerator.

"They're fighting over what I'm making for breakfast." He replied with a sigh, pulling out a few pans and the skillet. "Want to help me cook?" He hoped.

Jean laughed, taking the carton of eggs and reaching for a bowl.

"How many eggs should I make?" He asked. Marco turned the stove and skillet on, reaching for the pancake mix.

"So many." Was his reply. Jean blinked, opening the entirely full carton of eggs.

"Er, how many is so many?"

"All of them."

"Uh, are you sure?" He inquired. Marco only hummed in agreement, pouring the entire box of mix into a large bowl.

"And half of the second carton." He added, nodding towards the fridge. Jean looked at it with doubt, opening the door and finding the egg carton in question. He cringed at the thought of so many eggs.

"You can't be serious!" He moaned, taking it over to the counter anyway.

"I couldn't be any more serious." Marco deadpanned, mixing the pancake batter with a fork before dropping a few onto the skillet, pausing for only a second before opening the package of bacon and laying it in one of the pans. It popped and sizzled upon contact, and he left it there to cook.

"Alright, so, eighteen eggs. How should I cook them?" Jean asked, still staring at them with disdain.

"All of us eat them scrambled, except for Nardo. He likes his over easy. And you should make some for yourself too. You like yours sunny side up, right?" He recalled, thinking back to breakfast at Reiner's house.

"Yeah, or Benedict. But that's too much trouble." Jean grumbled, getting to work cracking the eggs in the bowl he'd retrieved.

He saved four, beating the rest until they were the right consistency, then he claimed one of the pans, dumping as much of the eggs into it as was manageable before reaching for a spatula.

Marco flipped the pancakes, then got started on some toast, using up a whole loaf of bread by the time he'd finished.

Jean, after finishing the eggs, was put on biscuits and gravy duty while Marco finished up the pancakes and bacon. He groaned when he realized that he hadn't preheated the oven, but Marco only laughed and put the biscuits in, already having taken care of that. Once those were done, he began shoving each dish into the oven on low heat, knowing his siblings wouldn't eat if it got cold. Jean worked on the gravy, and managed to finish at the same time as Marco was done with two enormous stacks of pancakes.

Jean was still overwhelmed, but he tried to help Marco plate the food. After getting shooed away for fucking up everything, he got out the butter, jams, and syrups and put them on the table. Once they decided they were ready, the teens called for the procession, and everyone got in line.

Marco distributed the plates like a pro, making sure everyone got what they liked, in the correct amount, and nothing they wouldn't eat. Once they were all sitting at the table and griping at each other about hogging the butter or the syrup, he started pouring their drinks, sending Jean out with two at a time, telling him who got what.

Finally, all was quiet as the Bodt children stuffed their faces, and Marco turned to Jean with a heavy sigh, wiping his brow with a dish towel since he'd neglected to put on a shirt when Marie woke him up. Jean leaned over and rested his head on his boyfriend's shoulder, huffing as well.

"Fuck, I need a cigarette." He lamented. Marco stiffened, pulling away to look at the smaller seriously.

"Jean, you said you'd quit!" He reminded, and Jean stared at him dumbly.

"Uh, yeah? I did." He replied.

They had a stare-off, then Marco narrowed his eyes.

"If you quit, then why would you say that?" He demanded.

Another stare-off.

"Babe, I'm still going to want cigarettes for a while. Maybe always. It's not called an addiction for nothing. Once upon a time I used them to calm down from stressful situations. But there's a difference between wanting one and having one. It was just a joke." He explained, turning to make his own plate, making sure he left enough for Marco.

Marco thought that over, then wrapped his arms around Jean's waist, holding him from behind and burying his face in the other teen's hair. He wasn't sure if he felt relieved or bad, but either way, he thought Jean was due for a proper embrace.

"So, you haven't smoked?" He questioned. Jean sighed, halting in his movements for a moment and putting his plate down. He turned, returning the embrace.

"No, I haven't. I told you I'd quit, and that's what I did." He offered solemnly. Marco smiled, then took a deep breath.

"Alright, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions." He admitted, nuzzling into Jean's neck. The other just held him, patting his back while his boyfriend took deep breaths of his scent. It was still a nice smell, even without the smoky undertone of tobacco.

"It's fine, babe, I shouldn't have said anything." Jean replied, pulling away with a kiss. Marco smiled softly, looking down at his feet.

"Don't be mad at me?" He plead, looking up at Jean hopefully. The one in question scoffed.

"As if anyone could be mad at you." He groused, kissing Marco's nose and grabbing his plate. The freckled boy blushed, grinning happily as he followed suit and made his own plate, getting a coffee cup down for Jean and pouring a glass of orange juice for himself. When Jean finished making his coffee, they joined the rest of the Bodt household, most of whom were already nearly finished eating.

"And you were worried it would be too many eggs." Marco laughed. Jean only shook his head in disbelief.

One by one, everybody finished, and they scampered off into their rooms to occupy their time, leaving the bottom floor completely empty and the dishes to be done by the oldest members of the family. Marco sighed, getting to work on scrubbing out the pans while Jean collected all of the abandoned cups.

It took them about ten minutes to get everything in the dishwasher, at which point a few of the younger siblings chanced coming downstairs to claim the television for as long as they could get away with it. Marco decided not to play his seniority card, which he definitely could have done, seeing as he was the oldest in the house, but he needed a shower anyway. So he headed upstairs, Jean on his heels, and grabbed a fresh pair of boxers from his dresser.

"I'm going to go shower." He announced. Jean nodded slowly, then bit his lip. He obviously wanted to say something. But what? "Jean?"

After fidgeting in place for a while, Jean looked up, having clearly found some confidence somewhere, for his eyes swirled with determination.

"Can I shower with you?" He asked.

Marco looked at him, surprised, but he finally gave a shy smile once his mind had processed the request.

"If you want to, sure." He agreed, toes curling and uncurling against the carpeting of his room. Jean nodded, getting his own pair of boxers, then he led the way to the bathroom.

They both hesitated once they got inside, awkwardly doing anything but getting naked. But once Marco had the water running, they couldn't put it off anymore, and they eventually gave in and began stripping.

Jean had seen pretty much every part of him by then, but it had been during a passionate moment, when it was hard to think of anything but the love that they shared. Now they were simply naked in front of each other, and the feeling was entirely different. Marco covered himself shyly, eyes on the ground. Jean was in a similar state.

After a few seconds of this, Marco pursed his lips.

"Alright, so, we've already seen each other pretty much naked. And we're totally dating. So why are we still being all shy?" He wondered, looking up at Jean. With the way his pretty whiskey colored eyes shone like sunlight through glass under thick lashes, Jean pretty much forgot what words even were.

"I mean… It's kind of weird for us to act this way, all things considered." He added, experimentally dropping his hands. Jean's eyes automatically plunged downward, but he quickly forced them back up, cheeks getting even redder when he realized what he'd just done. Marco didn't seem to mind though, beyond a bit more toe curling, and he took a few steps until he was directly in front of his boyfriend.

Jean hesitated, but let Marco pull him closer, jolting as skin met skin. Marco's was surprisingly cool, belying his warm looking skintone. But Jean could feel it heating up where it met his own, a flush spreading downward from his face.

After awkwardly embracing in the bathroom that was quickly becoming humid with the steam from the bath, Marco pointed out all of the water they were wasting, and pulled the paler boy behind him into the tub, drawing the curtain across and switching the water to the showerhead. He yelped when the first spurt was cold, lurching forward and nearly knocking the both of them to the floor.

Jean managed to catch him though, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

"Doesn't everyone know better than to actually be under the spout when the water first comes out?" He wondered, reaching for the shampoo while Marco ducked under the water and got his hair wet. He stuck his tongue out, ignoring the drops that fell on it. He made to switch places with Jean, but the other teen halted him, reaching up and scrubbing shampoo into his dark locks without much warning.

Marco was a bit surprised, but the pads of Jean's fingers and his short nails felt nice against his scalp, so he leaned over a bit to give his boyfriend a better angle. It turned out to be a massage of sorts in the end, turning Marco into jelly and covering Jean's hands in a fine lather. Marco smiled lazily as he rinsed the soap out, finally giving Jean his turn under the spray while he scrubbed at his body. He returned the favor, shampooing Jean, and then they traded again, Marco stepping out with as much grace as a jelly-person could.

He was nearly done drying off when Jean got out too, and he handed him a towel, wrapping his own around his waist and shaking his hair to get some more of the water out. Jean scoffed as he found himself on the receiving end of a small drizzle, shoving Marco gently. They both laughed.

By the time they had exited the bathroom, Mrs. Bodt was home and already working on a massive lunch for everyone. She asked Marco to run out to the car and retrieve the rest of the groceries, and Jean, of course, offered to help. Though loaded down to the point of collapsing, they managed to get it all in one trip, shakily squeezing through the door and setting the bags on the floor. Marco got to work on putting things away, and Jean did his best to find the correct places for things.

They sat down for lunch, then Marco announced that it was time to study, much to Jean's chagrin. He didn't argue though, even as Marco dragged him up the stairs and planted him on the bed. He took the desk to himself and pulled out a couple of textbooks.

"Baby-" Jean began, taking his own books out despite the whine in his voice. "Yesterday was prom! Can't we chill for the weekend?" He groused. Marco tsked, opening the top textbook to the right chapter.

"Finals are soon." He argued.

Jean grumbled, thumbing idly through the pages, barely skimming anything. Marco frowned, thinking about what he could offer as incentive. Then he grinned.

"I'll let you take me on a date if you get at least a B- on all of your finals." He announced. Jean perked up, looking over at the freckled teen seriously.

"Like, a real date? You'll let me buy you a NICE dinner?" He demanded. Marco sighed, but nodded. Jean held his finger up skeptically. "When I say nice, I mean, like, better than Red Lobster." He warned. Marco whined, but nodded. He would sacrifice Jean's money if it meant the guy would pass his finals.

With a goal to work towards, Jean was much more excited to read through his Biology book, and Marco only chuckled, setting to work on making a study guide for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late in coming. I'm a literal mess right now trying to get everything figured out. As I mentioned previously, I've moved out, and school started back up, and I'm working all the time, and it's just a general glob of "wow, this is hard."
> 
> I expected it to be hard, but it's still taking some adjusting, needless to say. And it's frustrating how little money you truly find yourself with, despite how much effort you put into everything. I can't even afford the textbooks I need, or a new pair of work shoes that I've needed for longer than I care to admit. It's the little things that you don't think about that sneak up on you.
> 
> But you know, I'm eating, and not dead. So that's something, at least. Today was really rough, but maybe tomorrow will be better. (I hope so, because I can barely even stand up right now, like, wow. I almost fell off the stairs trying to get home.) And I don't have to work tomorrow, just class.
> 
> This author note is turning into a diary entry, wow. Alright, well, JeanMarco and stuff. Tumblr, thanks, art, please, thank you. That's how these usually go, if I'm not mistaken. Like I said, you can find me on tumblr under KuroRiya, and I'm tracking fic tmttr for anything related to these dumb boyfriends.
> 
> Alright, I think I probably ought to go rest. Which actually means do more writing. But shhhh, we'll pretend like I'm actually taking care of my likely waning health. Yup. I'm responsible.
> 
> Till next time, guys. Thanks, as always, for reading, and you know how I love the feedback!
> 
> KuroRiya
> 
> 九六りや


	13. Chapter 13

The first day back after prom weekend involved a lot of coy glances and dirty jokes. Apparently pretty much everyone that had come to gay prom plus Sasha and Connie had gotten laid. Even Sasha and Connie. Marco had a tough time picturing that, but in retrospect, he was sort of grateful for it. It wasn't exactly something he needed haunting his dreams for the rest of his life.

As he'd predicted, the teachers started freaking out about finals, the ridiculous cramming already rearing its ugly head. Luckily for him, and for Jean, pretty much everything he'd outlined in their study guides had been mentioned by teachers. He'd done good to anticipate this year's material.

At lunch, Armin got up to smooch his cheek, surprising the freckled teen enough that he neglected to sit down for several awkward seconds. Then he began rubbing at the sea foam green lip print he'd received, giving Armin the most cautious of looks.

"What on earth was that for?" He wondered, taking his seat anyway. Armin giggled, clasping his hands together and bouncing in his seat with ill-contained excitement.

"For inviting me to a much more productive prom." He replied, smiling brightly. Marco blinked.

"Well, I didn't exactly invite you, but… And what do you mean, 'productive?'" He asked. Armin quirked a brow, the expression suggestive. Marco suddenly wished he hadn't asked.

"I got the best blow job I have ever had." Armin breathed, his eyes going dreamy. Marco coughed, eyes going wide.

"Alright, Armin, I like you. But that was too much information." He sighed, getting to work on his lunch. Armin only smiled, eyes still far away.

"God, if I didn't know better, I'd say Eren doesn't even have a gag reflex." He confided. Marco actually choked on the bite he'd taken. Clearly his own gag reflex was very much intact.

"A-Armin!" He coughed, taking a quick drink in hopes of not dying.

Armin cackled with delight, his platforms tapping against the linoleum floor to some beat Marco couldn't follow.

"And he was going to fuck me, but then he sort of passed out because he was really drunk." Armin admitted, lips pulling into a small pout. But his smile was back just as quickly as it had gone. "Buuuut! Now we're totally going steady!" He announced.

Marco's lashes fluttered, and he looked from his sandwich to Armin, as if the sandwich might offer him some sort of clarity on the enigma that was his blonde friend. His brows slowly came to furrow.

"But… Weren't you already dating?" He questioned.

Armin took his turn blinking, then he shook his head.

"Um, no? We fooled around a few times, but it was always a 'between friends' kind of thing. And he never sucked my cock." He explained. Marco winced, frowning.

"That's a real thing that happens?" He wondered, a bit baffled by the idea. "I thought 'fooling around' was only a thing in movies and books and stuff." He admitted.

"Seriously?" Armin gasped. "You never fooled around with your best friend?"

Marco bit his lip, shaking his head.

"I… I never really had one?" He offered. "You're the closest friend I had, until I met Jean. I was never that popular in elementary school, since apparently freckles are equivalent to the plague until after fifth grade." He added.

Armin's eyes went wide, then he frowned deeply, the lipstick making the downward curve of his lips that much more noticeable.

"Aww, Marco! I'm sorry! I never fooled around with you!" He cried, his words a little overdramatic, coming off as a bit sarcastic. Then he pouted. "Oh, wait, actually… I am sort of sorry. That would have been fun…" He trailed.

Marco made a truly embarrassing noise as he not-so-discreetly scooted over to the other side of the table. Armin grinned, tiptoeing his fingers across the surface, and then as far up Marco's arm as he could reach, which wasn't very, considering his tiny stature. He barely made it past the wrist.

"Well, what do you say, Marco? You, me, afterschool, the first floor girls' bathroom…" Armin purred.

"Are you making a Harry Potter reference?" Marco demanded. Armin's brows shot up under his bangs.

"…Alright, well, I was kidding at first, but now I am entirely serious. I want to suck your dick." Armin proclaimed. Marco yelped, forcefully switching places with one of the other people sitting at their table, forced to ignore their words of protest in favor of his innocence. Armin only waved his finger, smile coy. "It'll happen when you least expect it, Bodt." He singsonged.

Marco only meeped, trying to distract himself with his food so that he didn't have to acknowledge the predatory look Armin was giving him. Christ, who knew the petite blonde could be so terrifying.

Fortunately, the bell rang, and Armin had never been late to a class in his life, so he wound up bolting before he could further harass the freckled teen. Marco sighed appreciatively, waiting a few seconds before chancing the trip to his own class.

He made it entirely in one piece, and slid into the seat next to Jean. His boyfriend nudged his shoulder, grinning wide. Then he seemed to notice Marco's flustered state, and his grin fell.

"Babe? What's wrong?" He wondered, brows knitting in concern. Marco whined, leaning in so that he could whisper.

"Armin is determined to blow me, and I-" He began, but he was cut off by Jean's obnoxious cackling, most of the class staring in their direction now. Jean wouldn't sober though, tossing his head back while Marco's face went every shade of red they had a name for.

"Oh hush!" He cried, trying to cover Jean's mouth with his hands, to no avail. It only made the other teen snort, which got Marco laughing too, because, god, that was an unattractive sound.

"That is the best fucking conversation starter I have ever heard!" Jean snickered, forehead hitting the desk as he held his stomach. "Christ! Of all the things I expected out of your mouth, Armin and his apparent urgent need for your cock was the last on the list." He crowed.

If people weren't staring before, they were staring now, a lot of them with rather scathing looks. They probably didn't want to know about who's dick the Pastel Queer was looking to suck at the moment, but they sure did find out.

By the time the teacher came and they managed to calm down, the entire class likely thought they'd lost it, too overwhelmed by finals stress to maintain sanity. That would be their excuse, anyway. Even when the teacher was lecturing, they'd find themselves snickering a few times.

Marco was sad to have to part from Jean after that class, but it was for the best. He hadn't really learned anything while trying not to laugh, and it would be a problem if that continued all day. Unfortunately, he had his next class with Armin, and, sure enough, the smaller teen was still insisting on flirting his face off.

He nearly moved when Armin started pressing kisses to his cheek, but he managed to fend the blonde off with a pointed look. Of course, then he was pouting the rest of the class, but sacrifices had to be made. When the bell rung, Armin waited while Marco packed his things.

"Oh, come on Marco! When am I ever going to get another chance to suck a fellow Harry Potter fan off?" He demanded. Marco winced, standing up.

"Go to a convention?" He suggested. Armin scoffed.

"No way. Too expensive." He complained. "I only get to go to comic con once a year, and that's only because grandpa pays. He'd probably have a stroke if I asked to go to another one."

Marco pursed his lips, hands lingering protectively at his hips, just in case.

"I thought you and Eren were going steady, anyway?" He offered, inching towards the door. Armin sighed dramatically.

"He doesn't know anything about Harry Potter!" He whined. Marco rolled his eyes.

"Not the point." He replied. Armin's bottom lip stuck out, and Marco sucked in a breath. Armin was pretty cute. "Why don't you just have him watch the movies? And you could read the books to him. I'm sure he'd love that." He suggested.

Armin lit up, smiling wide and kissing his cheek again.

"Marco, you're a genius!" He called, rushing off down the hall. Marco stood in stunned silence for a moment, then headed for his next class, wiping at the second green lip-print of the day. Well, at least he'd avoided one unwanted blowjob that day.

That was a thought he never thought he'd have to think.

He was relieved to get out of class that day. All of the cramming the teachers were doing was likely going to be the end of him, but at least it was the last year. That was definitely a good thing.

He didn't let himself think of college. That was another bought of stress for another day. Instead, he busied himself with getting to his locker, pulling out what he needed to take home. He lingered, wondering if Jean was going to meet him there, or if he was waiting out in the car. When a couple minutes passed with no bi-colored undercut, he headed out to the back parking lot.

It wasn't until he saw Jean's usual space, empty, that he became concerned. Where was Jean? He'd never left Marco at school before, especially without saying anything. He checked his phone, but there weren't any texts or calls.

Lips pursed, he headed over to a bench, sitting down to wait for the other boy. He was worried, of course, but he opted to give Jean the benefit of the doubt. He waited patiently for ten minutes, and was just about to pull out his phone and give the other teen a call when the familiar rust bucket of a car pulled up. He breathed a sigh of relief, getting up and shouldering his bag.

He let himself in, sitting down while he threw his bag in the back.

"Hey, Jean! What happened? Did you forget me?" He laughed. He'd returned to his normal cheery attitude, since Jean had come for him, but when he saw his face, his smile fell a bit. "Jean?" He began again.

The other teen looked at him, but only for a moment. He looked really tired, and his posture was stiff. That was strange for him, Marco noted. Usually Jean was really relaxed while he was driving.

"Jean, hey?" He said, softer this time. "Is something wrong?"

Jean was quiet for a while, then he turned towards Marco again, and this time Marco could see; He had a huge bruise blooming against his cheekbone, close to his left eye. Marco gasped. Before he could ask any questions, though, Jean had pressed their lips together, fingers buried in the dark hair at the back of Marco's head, holding him in place.

While he wanted to know what was going on, he understood that Jean was probably a little shaken up by whatever had transpired to give him that bruise, so he returned the affection. But he couldn't help but notice a familiar taste. And a smell, actually. He jerked away, looking at Jean carefully.

"…You've been smoking." He said. Jean groaned, running his hand through his hair. "And fighting? What happened?"

Jean just sniffed gruffly, staring straight through the windshield.

"Jean, please? Talk to me." Marco requested softly, gently squeezing Jean's shoulder. But instead of the explanation he'd explained, Jean just jerked away, brows furrowed in apparent anger. It was almost like a wince.

"Don't fucking touch me!" He hissed.

Marco flinched, pulling his hand back as if it'd been burned. He never imagined that Jean would ever be looking at him like that. Never had Jean looked at him with anything but good humor and affection. Perhaps surprise, confusion, or even indifference, but never anger.

"Jean, what's wrong?" He asked, concern lacing his tone. "Y-You said that you'd quit, and-" He began, nervousness welling up in his tone, but Jean quickly cut him off.

"I'm a grown fucking man, I'll smoke if I damn well feel like it!" He seethed, knuckles turning white where they gripped the steering wheel.

Marco supposed he was scared. Not of Jean, but of what Jean might say. He imagined so many things, so many ways Jean could hurt him, if only he wanted to. Because Jean knew him more intimately than anyone else, so he knew better than anyone else what to say to make Marco feel terrible. He didn't give him the chance, quickly getting out of the car and retreating towards the school. He'd left his bag, but it didn't really weigh on his mind as he went back in, winding his way through the halls aimlessly for a few minutes before he picked a different exit.

His mind raced, thinking of every possibility; Had Jean gotten in a fight with someone? That seemed the obvious conclusion, considering his history, but he hadn't been in a single fight since they'd gotten together, as far as Marco knew. What had prompted it? And who was the other person? Or people? When had Jean even had the time to get into a fight?

He was in a daze, and didn't even realize that he was walking home until he was already at the door. Jean's car wasn't there. His mother's was. Knowing he couldn't just stay outside, he pushed the door open, heading up the stairs to his room before anyone had a chance to talk to him.

About halfway up the stairs, he felt the tears, fingers coming up to wipe them away, but they came too fast to catch. All he could really do was rush to his room and shut himself inside.

No one seemed to notice anything was amiss until he'd been crying for a good half hour, at which point he heard a knock at his door. Without getting a chance to answer, it opened, revealing his mother on the other side. He did his best to curl in on himself, turning his face away so she didn't have to see.

"Marco, sweetheart?" She called, eyes searching till she found him curled up on his bed. He spared a glance her way, taking in her worried expression for only a moment before turning away and sniffling louder than he'd anticipated. "Oh, honey, what's the matter?" She wondered, coming in and closing the door behind herself.

Marco whimpered, trying to turn his face away. He hated it when people saw him cry, especially his mother. He hated it when she worried.

She sat on the bed, and he felt the mattress sink under her weight, then her hand was in his hair, fingers carding through it soothingly. She always did that when he had nightmares as a child. That's sort of what this felt like; A nightmare.

"What happened?" She tried again. He only shook his head, curling in on himself more. She sighed. "Where's Jean?"

When that only made him cry more, she tutted, pulling him into a sitting position, then planting his face against her shoulder. He cried himself out all over again, then sniffled, getting up and going to the bathroom to make some attempt at cleaning his appearance up. All he really achieved was blowing his nose and regretting looking in the mirror, but he did at least try to make himself look less depressed.

Mrs. Bodt was still waiting in his room when he returned, and he sat down next to her with a sigh, looking down at his feet. He still had his shoes on.

Now that he was calm, his mother tried once more.

"Marco, tell me what happened." She cooed.

He stared at his shoes a bit longer, then bit his lip.

"We… We sort of… Well, I don't know if it's a fight, but… He seemed pretty angry. And I just… I left. I walked home. I'm sorry." Marco explained, putting his head in his hands, trying to hold back the tears that were already trying to spill again. He'd never had a boyfriend before, so he'd never fought with one before. He wasn't sure what to do.

"Oh baby, don't be sorry." She hushed, pulling his face up to look him in the eye. "You've always been like that. You just don't like confrontation. But that's a good way to be sometimes. Sometimes you just have to walk away." She pointed out. He nodded weakly, sniffing again.

Mrs. Bodt wrapped him up in a hug, then pulled him downstairs, sitting him down with a big bowl of ice cream that his siblings eyed enviously. He barely tasted it as he shoveled it mechanically into his mouth, but the coolness of it did help to sooth the ache somewhere between his heart and stomach, which was a start.

After eating it, he sat down on the couch. His siblings seemed to sense that he wasn't having a good day, for they made a space for him, and let him decide between Finding Nemo and Atlantis. He decided on Nemo, though Atlantis was one of his favorites. He knew he needed something a little lighthearted.

He cried three times before the movie was over.

It was already dark out when Jean's car finally pulled in. Marco heard the familiar rattling sound as it approached, and he stiffened, unsure of what he should do. Would Jean still be angry? Would he be willing to talk now?

The door opened, and Marco heard two thumps, gathering that Jean had brought his bag in as well. Then he heard Jean's footsteps down the hallway, and he turned to watch him approach.

Jean seemed surprised to see him, then his brows furrowed.

"Where the fu-" He paused, looking at all of the freckled children gathered around their older brother, two sitting in his lap. With an annoyed sound, he pointed at the ceiling, then tromped up the stairs. Marco understood the gesture, lifting the little ones off his legs and standing, walking towards the stairs slowly.

His siblings watched with varying levels of confusion and pity as he made the trek.

Jean was still angry. It was obvious, just by the look on his face. But why? What had Marco done? He was reluctant to enter his room, knowing Jean was in there, probably about to yell at him, but he couldn't just leave him in there. He'd only get angrier. So he took a deep breath.

Inside, he found Jean pacing, but he stopped when Marco entered, waiting till he closed the door to open his mouth.

"Where the fuck were you?" He demanded, eyes narrowed. Marco blinked, scratching the back of his hand idly.

"Uh… I walked home." He replied meekly. Jean was silent for a while, then he threw his hands up.

"That's fucking fantastic!" He growled. "So I just wasted three hours of my day looking for someone who was sitting at home, watching goddamn Disney movies!"

Marco winced, hand now busy rubbing at his arm. He could never control his hands when he got nervous. He hated being nervous.

"I-I'm sorry. I just… You were mad, and I… I wanted to give you some space. You could have called me-"

"Could have called you? You think I didn't try? I'm not a fucking idiot Marco. Where do you keep your phone?" He inquired, sarcasm already dripping. Marco frowned.

"I keep it in my bag… Oh."

"Oh." Jean repeated mockingly.

They were quiet for a beat, then Jean began again.

"Next time you decide to just walk home, why don't you tell your boyfriend instead of letting him wander around the school for an hour and a half? Or how about before he drives around town three times?"

Marco looked down at his feet, biting his lip.

"I said I was sorry." He offered. That only seemed to make Jean angrier though, for he scoffed loudly, throwing his hands up again.

"Oh, you're sorry? That just makes the whole thing better!" He snarled, pacing again.

"Yes! What else do you want me to say, Jean?" Marco cried. Jean seemed surprised that Marco had yelled back, but not nearly as surprised as Marco. He'd never screamed at someone like that. "I…"

They were at a standstill, but Jean was unwilling to back down. It was obvious just in the way that he was standing. He was itching for a fight. But Marco couldn't think of anything he could say to appease him.

"Wanna know why I smoked today?" Jean finally asked. It was still harsh sounding, but at least they were changing topics. Marco nodded warily. "Because I went to my house to talk to my old man today. And you wanna know what he had to say to me? He called me a faggot. That's all he had to say before he beat my ass and threw me out. So god fucking forbid that I have one god damn cigarette to chill the fuck out." He ranted, throwing a nasty glare Marco's way.

"I…I didn't know. I'm sorry." Marco tried. Again, this only seemed to set Jean off more.

"The fuck does it matter why I did it? You aren't my fucking mom!" He growled. "I don't need your damn permission!"

Marco frowned, his own brows furrowing.

"I never said you needed my permission! I only commented because you said that you quit. If you want to smoke, I'm not going to stop you! I realize that it's your choice! I asked you to quit because I was worried about your health, but I understand that you have no obligation to listen." He tried to explain.

"Oh, so you don't even fucking care?" Jean demanded.

"Jean, that's not what I said!" Marco groaned, his voice rising in pitch almost as much as volume. "Don't twist what I say!"

"I don't have to!" Jean spat back, rounding on Marco, too close to his face.

"Jean, back off!" He warned, putting his arms up defensively. But Jean remained where he was, glowering at Marco, his fists clenched tightly at his side. Marco's eyes darted between them and Jean's face.

Would Jean hit him? He couldn't imagine so, but then, he couldn't have imagined this argument either. Jean was using anything he could to attack him, any excuse to make Marco feel small. And it was working. But, at the same time, it was making anger bubble up in Marco too.

"Or what?" Jean finally sneered, looking Marco dead in the eye.

After a short stare down, Marco's resolve hardened.

"Get out." He said.

Jean faltered, eyes going wide for just a moment.

"What?" He asked, voice still just as sharp. But Marco was done being put down.

"Get out!" He repeated, louder this time. When Jean didn't budge, just staring at him in apparent surprise, he huffed. His footsteps were quick as he brushed past his boyfriend, gathering up one of the pillows and a blanket from his bed, shoving them into Jean's arms before forcefully pushing him out of the door, closing it a little harder than he'd meant to. And he locked it.

Never had Marco had to use the lock before.

Jean lingered outside the door. He could tell, because he didn't hear his footsteps for a few minutes. When Jean finally did go, his steps were stomps. But Marco didn't let himself feel bad about what he'd done. Jean had definitely deserved it.

Now that he didn't have an angry boyfriend screaming at him, he could think over what Jean had said. It hurt to hear him say such scathing things, but he got the feeling that Jean didn't mean them. He wasn't angry at Marco, he was just taking it out on him. It wasn't an excuse, at all, and Marco was still mad. But he knew he'd wind up forgiving Jean. He was hurting.

But he also wanted to make it clear that he would not be participating in such shouting matches in the future. As his mother said, he'd never liked confrontation, and he wasn't going to change that just because they were dating. Jean was going to have to learn to deal with it a different way, or it wasn't going to work. It scared him to think that, but he knew he would follow through. He believed in second chances, but Jean was going to have to learn, and fast.

He tried to deny that frustrated tears were falling, but it was pretty obvious. He was surprised he had any tears left, honestly. But at least he wasn't sobbing.

Without much else to do, he curled up in bed, letting his eyes close to stop the tears, and to hopefully get some sleep. It felt strange though, with no one's arms wrapped around him, and no frozen toes pressing against his ankles, and no body heat to share. But he'd have to make do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a pretty quick update, right? Well, I hope so, anyway. I've sort of noticed that my chapters are a bit short compared to some other authors'. I know it's a little late in the game, but I hope you guys don't mind having shorter chapters a bit more frequently? Because, sure, Lownly posts 50+page chapters, but you have to wait a few months for them (I say this from experience. It's an agonizing wait full of anticipation and hope.) Well, that's just how I function, so I hope it's not a bother.
> 
> So, I just wrote chapter 16 last night, and we're definitely close to the end. I'd say this story'll cap off at 17-18 chapters. Thanks for hanging on this long, guys~! Stick with me a bit longer, pretty please?
> 
> A few chapters ago, I realized: Wow, Jean and Marco have never even had a tiny little disagreement they are probably robots or something. Robodts. And like, that just won't do. I have people ask me about why I'm not published or disgustingly nice things like that, and this is why; I forget that humans are assholes sometimes. Or rather, I like to write them as not assholes, because I have to deal with the real ones every day.
> 
> Anyway, here's some drama! Hope it's a nice change in pace~!
> 
> Alright, I need to get responding to the comments from the last chapter, and start working on the next chapter for Where Wildflowers Grow (which you should totally check out because I love it a lot and it's my current baby and still JeanMarco, just with extra angst and more information on the 1700s than you will ever need and so many flowers. Too many flowers.)
> 
> If you want to find me on tumblr, I'm KuroRiya there too. And anything about this fic, whatever it may be, can be tagged with fic tmttr. I track that tag, I'll totes see it~! Thank you, as always for reading, and I'm seriously lucky to have so many awesome readers on board. Keep the feedback coming, and I'll keep the chapters coming too! See you next time!


	14. Chapter 14

Marco woke when he crashed into the wall, a thump still vibrating throughout the house where his head had made contact. It had been a very long time since he'd done that. Jean usually slept against the wall, so it was pretty difficult to roll over him and bang against it.

So it was sort of staggering, to say the least, to realize that Jean wasn't there. And Marco had to think back to remember why.

Then he recalled kicking the other boy out. Recalled the argument.

He still didn't think he was at fault. As much as he hated to admit it, Jean had been wrong. He wished he could take the blame, but knew, in this situation, he could not. Still, now that he'd had time to calm down, he could understand Jean's outburst. While taking it out on Marco had been unfair, it wasn't unforgivable.

Marco sat up in bed, stretching his shoulders and smacking his lips a few times. His mouth tasted sort of gross, so he opted to head to the bathroom to brush. He had to pee anyway. But he accidentally ran into his door, forgetting it was locked. He had to backtrack a step and unlock it before he could exit.

He did his business in the bathroom, running his tongue over his teeth, glad that his mouth tasted like mint instead of sleep. It was much more tolerable. After that, the plan had been to return to the bedroom and try to get some more sleep, but Marco's poor freckled messiah soul wouldn't let him pass the staircase without going down. He tried to tell himself that he went to get a glass of water, but his feet seemed to have different plans, and he, quite suddenly, found himself standing in front of the couch.

Jean was sleeping, though it looked like he hadn't been out for long. His posture was sloppy and looked uncomfortable, and his face hadn't quite relaxed. Marco sighed, biting his lip.

He knew he should still be mad. And, somewhere in his mind, he was. But seeing Jean, obviously having been kept up thinking about what he'd done, he wasn't able to bring the anger to the forefront. With a huff, he sat down, Jean's hip dipping with the couch cushion towards his weight. He didn't stir though.

Marco ran his fingers through Jean's hair, watching as his face reacted. He still didn't wake up though.

He just sat and watched for a moment, then sighed heavily, knowing he wasn't going back to his room. He knew himself better than that. Instead, he squeezed himself in, pushing Jean a little bit so that he'd fit. Jean finally stirred, humming as he woke. He blinked at Marco blearily.

"Mmm, babe?" He said, voice sort of hoarse. Marco couldn't be sure if it was from sleep, or if maybe he'd cried. Or maybe it was the shouting.

"Scoot over." Marco whispered, nudging him until he complied. Jean groaned under his breath.

"There's no room." He pointed out.

"Make room." Marco replied, smashing himself against Jean and then trying to get comfortable.

"Baby, I love you, but can't we just go upstairs and-" Jean began, but he was interrupted.

"No. I'm not getting back up. Hush and go to sleep." Marco commanded. Jean sighed, shifting so he could get his arms around the other boy, pulling him as close as he could so that he wouldn't fall off the couch.

Marco had just dozed off when Jean's voice yanked him back to consciousness. He almost groaned.

"Baby?" He called. Marco whined to show he was listening. "I'm sorry." He breathed.

Marco was quiet a long time, then he sighed, eyes opening to look at Jean's in the orange light from a streetlamp that flooded in from the window.

"I wasn't really mad at you." He admitted, frowning. "And it was stupid of me to yell at you like that. I guess I'm more like my old man than I like to think. But I'm seriously sorry. You don't deserve that kind of shit, and I've been regretting it all night, and if I ever do that again, just fucking punch me or something, I totally deserved it, and-"

He was rambling, and Marco was too tired to really listen. In order to get the other teen quiet, he pressed their lips together, short and sweet. It worked, and Jean looked at him with a bit of surprise.

"Just go to sleep Jean. We can talk about it in the morning." He promised, rolling over in Jean's arms and pushing back until they were spooning almost uncomfortably. Almost. It didn't take long before he'd fallen asleep, glad he'd decided to come down the stairs. It was so much easier to sleep with Jean's arms around him, warm breath ghosting over the nape of his neck, reminding him that Jean was still there. He wondered when that'd become necessary for him.

-.-.-+-.-.-

Marie's scream was a very effective alarm clock. And, honestly, neither teen had any idea why she'd screamed at all. They were fully clothed, weren't kissing, weren't tickle attacking. But nevertheless, her cry was shrill and came early, when the sun was barely up. What was with kids and waking up with the sun? It was inhuman.

Whatever the reason, they both jumped, heads colliding and resulting in Marco on the floor, and Jean about halfway there, too. Marie grinned triumphantly, perching herself right where they'd been laying and turning the television on with the remote, changing the channel to some abhorrent Disney Channel reality show yet again.

With many too-high-pitched groans, the two hefted themselves to their feet, retreating quickly up the stairs to catch any sleep they could before it was time to get ready for school. Marie's morning enthusiasm bordered on psychopathic, but they were too busy tripping over each other as they fell into bed to comment.

The springs creaked just a bit under their weight, then went quiet after they'd found a comfortable position. Jean insisted silently on being the big spoon again, and Marco was already dozing and in no state to argue as Jean wrapped him up in an embrace. The rise and fall of Jean's chest was a nice rhythm to fall asleep to anyway.

Sleep had been so close, but then Jean spoke, voice piercing in the early morning silence. Marco groaned before he even finished what he was saying.

"Oh hush. If I can't sleep, do you really think I'd let you?" He wondered. Marco whined lowly, trying to hide under the pillows.

"A good boyfriend would!" He pointed out, voice muffled heavily by the plush. Jean scoffed.

"Well fine, I won't tell you what happened." He retorted smugly, like he knew Marco wouldn't be able to resist his curiosity. He was right.

As much as he wanted to doze back off, Marco pulled himself out from under the pillows, turning so he was facing Jean in the bed instead. Jean seemed momentarily pleased that he'd won, but his face quickly sobered.

"Alright. So, I went to talk to my old man. I told you that much. I figured I should tell him where I've been, make sure he hasn't called the cops or put out a search warrant for me or something. So I told him I was staying with you. But when he asked who you were… Well, I couldn't help myself. I told him we were dating, and he just… He lost it." He began, frowning deeply.

Marco sucked in a breath. He couldn't imagine what a parent 'losing it' would look like. He'd never dealt with that. But the idea scared him.

"At first he just kept screaming at me and calling me names, but when that didn't get a reaction out of me, well…" He trailed. Marco reached his hand out, brushing gently over Jean's cheekbone, brows knit. Jean grabbed the hand with his own, giving it a squeeze before sitting up and pulling his shirt off, motions careful. Marco gasped.

His entire chest was littered with bruises, all shades of deep purples, painful blues, and angry reds. Some were a lot worse than others.

"O-Oh my god-" Marco breathed, fingers subconsciously brushing along the darkest of the marks, his anger vanishing as his eyes took in each mark.

"It wasn't one-sided or anything." Jean promised, wincing when Marco pressed against the one on his shoulder. "I got in just as many hits. But, anyway, that's why I was like that yesterday." He said, voice going sheepish, apologetic.

"I was really jittery after I left his place. Like, fucking wired." He explained. "Fighting kind of gives you a rush, you know? Er, I guess you don't. But you get kind of an adrenaline high, but it's really shitty afterwards. And I didn't want you to see me like that. Smoking usually helps me calm down, so that's why I had a cigarette. I know I said I'd quit, and I'm sorry. I wish I hadn't done it. But I can't exactly take it back now." He said, a bitter laugh following.

Marco swallowed then lurched forward, carefully wrapping his arms around Jean's chest, pressing his face into Jean's neck.

"I'm so sorry, Jean! I-I don't even know what to say…" He whimpered, squeezing gently. Jean hugged back, albeit a little stiffly. Marco knew he ought to still be angry. He knew that Jean had messed up, but it was hard to really consider himself the victim when Jean looked the way he did.

And, beyond that, he'd already decided to forgive him. In fact, he didn't remember ever thinking he wouldn't. Even when Jean was screaming in his face, he still knew he'd forgive the other boy. Because he loved him. And people fought. Couples fought. It was getting past it that determined whether a relationship was worth having. And he believed that theirs was worth it.

"Well, it's still no excuse for the way I treated you. And I'm not trying to guilt you into forgiving me. I honestly want you to be mad at me. I fucked up. You didn't deserve that. You should have left my ass on the couch." Jean reasoned. Marco smiled wryly.

"Technically, I did. I just joined you." He pointed out. Jean sighed dramatically, lying down with Marco still in his arms.

"Don't get sassy with me. It's too early and I'm too sore for that." Jean groaned, kissing Marco's forehead. They were quiet for a while, Marco's fingers busy tracing every bruise, followed by a quick kiss to each. Jean sighed, carding through Marco's hair until the tinny sound of his phone went off to alert them that it was time to get up and get ready for school.

Though they'd already been awake, they still groaned at the prospect of having to get out of bed. But it was too close to finals to miss a day, so they forced themselves up, going through their morning routine as if nothing had even happened between them. Marco was sort of glad for it. He didn't like fighting with Jean.

They went downstairs together, grabbing their plates for breakfast and finding their seats at the table. Marie grinned at them, busy coating her Rice Krispies in way too much sugar. Marco made a face.

"You're going to have a sugar crash by the time you get to school." He warned, shaking his head.

"I'm sure waking up at five in the morning isn't going to help." Jean added, smooching Marco's cheek as he buttered a waffle. Marco nodded in agreement while Marie glared at their display of affection.

"Mom!" She hollered, pausing to shovel some cereal into her mouth. "Jean and Marco are kissing at the table!"

The two boys snickered, then Jean, who was sitting between Marco and Marie at the table, leaned over and planted a kiss to her cheek. Her eyes went as wide as was probably possible, and she truly shrieked.

"MOM! THEY'RE KISSING ME AT THE TABLE!"

They just cackled, continuing with their breakfast as if they hadn't tormented an eight year old with affection.

There was a pause, then Mrs. Bodt appeared from the downstairs bathroom, busy trying to fit an earring in while she walked. When she saw the two sitting together, she smiled knowingly.

"That's good to hear." She replied. Marie seemed devastated that her ploy to get them in trouble had failed, and she scrubbed miserably at her cheek, devoting herself to her cereal after that. "You two made up, then?" She prompted. Marco nodded.

"Sorry for worrying you." He offered. Jean nodded his head as well.

"It was my fault." He admitted. Marco nudged him, but he held firm. "And I'm sorry for the trouble. I won't let it happen again."

Mrs. Bodt chuckled, finally getting her earring in and going for her briefcase.

"You two are cute. Arguments are normal, don't forget that. I was actually starting to wonder how on earth you hadn't had one yet." She admitted. "Come on, all of you munchkins. We're leaving." She called, and the youngest children lined up, Marie coming up last after running her bowl to the sink. With that, Mrs. Bodt winked their way and led the procession out of the door.

A few of the older siblings remained, still munching at waffles or cereal, but Marco was still oldest, and, after finishing his breakfast, he got to work making sure everyone else was ready, helping to zip up backpacks and collect homework that'd been left out the night before. When the bus came and the remaining kids were sent off, he heaved a sigh.

"I think we need a live-in nanny or something." He groused, putting his shoes on and shouldering his bag.

"Isn't that your job?" Jean offered, earning a warning glance. He laughed.

"I know I don't have to do it, I just… I don't know. I can't just leave them to fend for themselves." Marco offered, shrugging. "How would they survive without me?" He wondered, voice overly dramatic. Jean snorted.

"Alright Nanny McPhee, let's go."

Marco followed him out to the car, getting into the passenger's side and waiting while Jean got situated. Though it fought for a moment, the car started, and after nearly jumping out of their skins when the radio came on at full blast, Jean easily fell into the route they usually took to get to school. Marco watched him drive, remembering where each bruise had been, frowning at the mere memory. If only he could kiss them away. Maybe he'd give it a shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of left you guys hanging for a while, huh? Sorry about that! It was even in the middle of an argument! I'm pretty terrible sometimes. I was having a bit of trouble with writing chapter 17, but it wound up being 4,444 words long, compared to an average chapter of between 2,100 and 3,000 words, that's pretty long. I'm excited for you guys to get to read it!
> 
> But for now, there's just this one. Hopefully it'll help you guys calm down, since everyone seemed pretty worried about these two losers. Sorry to have worried you, but one argument doesn't ruin a relationship, in most cases.
> 
> Marco is Nanny McPhee and you shan't convince me otherwise. And imagine him at reunions. With cousins. So many cousins. Innumerable cousins. And nieces and nephews. And second cousins. Poor guy.
> 
> Anyway, I have to do adult things tomorrow. At least my mom is taking me to lunch. Free Chinese food is the best sort of Chinese food. Remember that, all ye that don't yet live on your own. Learn it, live it. Another thing to learn; Chai tea latte premixes of the liquid variety CAN go bad. You have been warned.
> 
> The point is that I should get to bed, or something. I'll probably just work on more fanfiction, since I'm sort of relying on that to keep me out of depression, since it might be setting in a bit. My mom thinks so, anyway. I suppose we'll see. I think I'm just tired, but who can say. I'm no shrink.
> 
> At least I have great readers, and some stories that I love to work on. You guys are great, and I really love getting to read all of your feedback. That's one of the highlights of my days, truly.
> 
> Alright, off I go. To either sleep or write more. We'll see. Till next time, thank you, and feedback is always appreciated. You can tag any related material with fic tmttr if you see fit!
> 
> KuroRiya  
> 九六りや


	15. Chapter 15

A lot of people got incredibly stressed around finals time. Even Reiner and Bertholdt started to get a bit snippety with each other, which was apparently not something that happened very often. But, after their, admittedly little, spat, Jean and Marco found themselves on pretty good terms. Studying went without a hitch. Jean barely even whined.

It was still a tough time, what with teachers insisting that they needed to get through their curriculum instead of just taking a few questions off of their already intense tests. When all was said and done, and they finally had a few days just to try and study without having to absorb new information, everyone was drained and either wishing for death, or close to it.

No matter where they were, most time was spent with books and pages of notes, and regret. Mostly regret. It didn't matter how much Jean moaned and groaned, Marco couldn't even be tempted away from his study guides by dates or free ice cream. To say Jean had cabin fever was a serious understatement.

Finally, the weekend came. Saturday was devoted wholeheartedly to the books. But when they woke up on Sunday, Jean made sure that Marco wouldn't be able to find the damned things until he wanted him to.

Initially Marco seemed to think that he'd simply misplaced them, and made it through two trips around the house before realizing something was up. Jean made a point of staring at the incredibly interesting nail in the wall while Marco glared him down.

When he finally cracked, it was with a deep groan.

"I can't take this anymore, baby! If we're going to fail, we're going to fail, regardless of what we do today. But we aren't going to fail. Now, we are going out to the fucking factory to break shit and scream our faces off and I don't even care what you say, you are going. Put a fucking shirt on you nudist freak."

Marco wished he could argue as he bashfully covered up his bare chest, but Jean's expression was a compelling argument, so he did as he was told, fetching a shirt out of the closet and pulling it over his head. Jean nodded in approval, tugging him down the stairs by the hand, only letting go to shove his boots on and root through the hallway closet until he found a couple of metal bats.

Despite his best attempts to convince Jean that this wasn't a good idea, Marco found himself shakily wielding a too-small metal bat in a deserted factory yard not even ten minutes later. Jean was already busy reshaping a long abandoned truck with his own bat, the clang of metal against metal making Marco flinch almost every time.

"J-Jean!" He cried, not sure if he should approach or keep his distance. Jean paused though, looking over his shoulder at his boyfriend.

"What?" He demanded gruffly, bat still poised to take out a mirror.

"That's illegal!" Marco groaned, running a hand through his hair nervously.

Jean cackled, taking the mirror out, before leaping up into the bed of the truck. The entire vehicle creaked and sunk under his weight, and Marco's heart skipped a beat as he prayed it wouldn't collapse. It didn't, thankfully, and Jean got to work smashing out the back windshield.

"Only if you get caught!" He called, turning to offer Marco a huge grin.

As much as he wanted to be frustrated with his boyfriend's behavior, Marco had never seen Jean look so exhilarated. It looked like he was really having fun taking out his frustrations. And hey, it was better than getting in fights, for sure.

He only watched Jean's apparent glee for a long time, but a pointed look his way finally got him to give it a go. With way too much hesitation, he made a tiny dent in the side of the already ruined vehicle. Jean barked a laugh at his horrified expression, tugging on his collar until he reluctantly got up in the bed of the truck too.

"Come on, take a real swing!" He urged, pointing at the almost entirely shattered windshield. Marco looked between the two, lip worried between his teeth.

"I-I'd rather not." He admitted, looking down in shame. He felt bad for not joining in, but he couldn't put his heart into it. Jean rolled his eyes, pulling the bat from Marco's hands.

"You don't have to look so pathetic, sweetheart. It's your choice." He pointed out, tossing the bat to the ground, a loud thump accompanying its arrival. Marco sighed, mostly with relief, and sank into the bed of the truck. Jean got back to work on destroying it, but the vibrations that his blows made were sort of pleasant, muffled by the sheer size of the vehicle so that it was only really a rumble by the time Marco felt it.

He let Jean carry on like that for a long while, just observing and offering a few random shouts whenever Jean got especially excited, if only to make it feel more like he was still participating in the chaos that was Jean's stress relief.

The stress relief became more of a stress inducer when they suddenly heard sirens, and they weren't exactly far off. In fact, they were near where Jean had parked his car. Marco froze immediately, his heart sinking into his stomach, and even Jean's face fell, along with the bat. It would have been comical, if they both weren't trying to sort through their fight or flight reflexes, along with the realization that, fuck, they were in trouble.

Jean made to run, but Marco, his reflexes somehow intact, grabbed his sleeve and held him in place.

"Don't run, you idiot!" He hissed, glaring up at his boyfriend.

"Run, you idiot!" Jean shot back, looking between the boy that was still sitting in the bed of the truck and the approaching officer.

"That'll only make it worse!" Marco screeched, feeling panic welling as the uniformed woman neared. As much as he wanted to run, he knew better. Jean apparently did not, for he still looked like he was itching to flee, but Marco's hand on his forearm seemed to keep him anchored.

When the woman was finally within earshot, she hollered at them to get out of the truck, which they quickly complied with. When she saw they were unarmed, she seemed to relax, and she approached with more confidence in her steps.

As soon as she was before them, she was demanding an explanation, and Jean was just as quick to fire back his sarcasm. She didn't seem pleased. Marco watched with timid horror as the two exchanged words and grew increasingly annoyed with each other.

Before he even knew what was happening, he felt the tell-tale dampness on the collar of his shirt, letting him know that he was crying. Literally crying. Sure, he was legally an adult. Sure, he could vote. Sure, he could apply for college and buy a car and watch porn. But he sure as hell wasn't ready to deal with going to prison.

His sniffling, at some point, garnered the attention of both Jean and the officer, almost at the same time, and they both gave him incredulous looks.

"Babe?" Jean murmured, pulling Marco's hands away from his face so he could be sure that, indeed, the boy was really crying. If that didn't make him feel like shit…

"I-I'm sorry!" Marco blubbered, wiping frantically at his eyes. "I just… I've never been to prison!" He cried, the policewoman jumping at his sudden outburst.

"I never thought I'd ever go, honestly! I-I… I was always good, and I promised mom, and I… I just…" His coherency lost out to more tears, and Jean's eyes were wide as he wrapped his arms around the other teen, holding him against his shoulder and hoping that would help to console him.

"Baby, calm down. You aren't going to prison." He promised. Marco wailed yet again, stuffing his face into the crook of the smaller teen's neck. Apparently he wasn't to be consoled. He looked desperately to the officer, hoping for some sort of help, even just confirmation would do.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she looked up to the sky.

"Look, kid, you're not going to prison." She repeated. Marco quieted a little. "I've got bigger fish to fry. Just don't do it again." She warned, giving Jean a stern look. Marco finally pulled away, looking at her with actual doe eyes. They were misty and everything.

"R-Really?" He prompted. She rolled her eyes, a brow quirking.

"Get out of here. I'm not kidding, don't let me catch you at it again."

They scampered quickly to Jean's car, avoiding the gaze of the policewoman's partner, still seated in the car, sipping idly at a Gatorade. They pulled out quickly, but definitely under the speed limit, Jean taking them to a nearby burger place and parking again.

It was silent for a moment, then they both let out shaky sighs, sinking into the seats of the car.

"Jesus Christ." Jean breathed.

"You almost got us arrested!" Marco shrieked, throwing his hands up as high as they would go in the car. Jean flinched, but didn't argue.

"Sorry. Nice job with the waterworks, though. You made her feel bad enough for you that she just gave us a warning." He snickered, earning a dirty look from the other teen.

"This is NOT funny!" Marco groaned, covering his face with his hands yet again. Jean laughed again, turning the car off and opening his door.

"Come on, let's get some burgers. Run-ins with the law always make me hungry." He explained. Marco groaned, but got out nonetheless, following Jean inside and sliding into a small booth. Jean tried to order two stupid burgers with everything, literally, along with a huge chocolate milkshake. Marco amended the order to just one obnoxious burger with too many extra toppings and patties and one simple cheeseburger, and a strawberry milkshake, ignoring Jean's protests as he sent the waitress off to fill their order.

"You almost got me arrested. We're having strawberry." He growled when Jean continued to whine. That shut him up fast enough, and he resigned himself to his fate with little more than a bit of sulking that was amended by a cold beer that he acquired with a very fake ID. Marco settled with a cherry vanilla coke, eyeing the beer and his boyfriend with a bit of fond contempt.

Jean sipped at it idly, his free hand slipping around his boyfriend's waist, pulling him over until they were sitting hip to hip in the booth. Marco giggled, used to the action but still pleased by the affection.

"Want a sip?" He asked, offering the bottle as if it might be tempting. Marco stuck his tongue out.

"I'll stick to coke, thank you. I've broken enough laws for one day." He replied. Jean cackled, taking a big drink, brows drawn up invitingly, practically daring his boyfriend to refuse. Marco sighed, taking the bottle and braving a small swig, regretting it immediately and chasing the dry taste with his coke.

"Look at you! You're growing into a fine criminal!" Jean joked, nudging his side as he reclaimed his beer. Marco rolled his eyes, thanking the waitress as she set their burgers down before them with a good-humored smile.

They got a bit quieter as they shoveled the food in, trying to calm themselves a bit with calories. And, by the time they'd finished fighting over who got the last sip of strawberry goodness, which was rightfully Marco's, the taller teen wasn't shaking anymore, and Jean was done trying to make light of the situation to no avail.

"So, despite almost getting arrested," Jean began. So much for not making light of the situation. "That was great. I feel a lot better." He announced. Marco offered a small smile.

"Glad you got it out of your system." He said, patting his butt in search of his wallet. Jean found his first, tactfully paying the bill before Marco could locate his own. He made sure to tip, though, not letting Jean slip the bills back into his pocket. "Ready to go back home and get some more studying in?" He hoped. Jean scoffed obnoxiously. It bordered on a snort.

"Fuck that!" He exclaimed, pulling Marco out of the restaurant and back towards the car. "We can go anywhere you like that doesn't involve studying." He offered, making it sound like Marco had just won the lottery.

"Jean," Marco began.

"Nope." Jean interrupted, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the space. Marco paused, mouth still open with unspoken words. He shut it abruptly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You didn't even know what I was going to say." He pointed out. Jean scoffed.

"I have a pretty good idea. Come on. Date night. Where do you want to go?" He pressed, coming to a stop light. Marco pursed his lips, thinking over his options. He realized he would not be getting any studying done anytime soon, and opted to just accept it.

"Um… I mean, we could… Er…" He drew a blank, unable to think of anything really worth mentioning. With a shrug, he pointed at the theatre across the street. "I heard they're doing a special showing of Shrek 3? Or maybe it was two…" He mumbled. Jean looked scandalized.

"Baby, no. I don't want to have to cut out your tongue, but I'll do it if I have to." He threatened. Marco balked.

"Hey! What do you have against Shrek?" He demanded. Jean only shook his head.

"Youtube. We are literally never watching that movie. Pick something else." He commanded. Marco pouted, looking around in hopes of finding inspiration.

"Uh… I think they rent out paddle boats on the lake?" He tried. Jean sighed.

"I'm not exactly dressed for the occasion." He reasoned. And that was fair enough. Boots and skinny jeans weren't exactly water-sport attire. Marco sighed.

"Well, I don't know! I'm not good at this sort of thing!" He whined, glancing down streets as they passed them. He wished he was more useful. "What do you want to do, shop at Hot Topic?"

Jean gasped.

"First of all, how dare you." He snarled. Marco snorted. "We do not talk about the forbidden zone." He added. Marco rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, okay. I'll just pretend to not know for a fact that you bought those jeans there." He offered. Jean went red.

"They make my ass look good." He grumbled. Marco grinned.

"What ass?" He wondered. Jean actually turned to gape at him, nearly rear-ending someone in the process. Once he'd recovered from that, he gave Marco a look.

"Sassy today." He commented. Marco stuck his tongue out. "Alright. Well… We could… Oh! Hold on!" He bellowed, making a hard left across three lanes and cutting numerous people off. Marco clung to the 'oh-shit' handle for dear life, looking at Jean like he'd lost it. Maybe he had. He probably had.

But once they'd made the life-threatening turn, his driving returned to normal, and Marco was able to relax once again, just enjoying the ride as they drove further and further away, buildings becoming more spread out the longer they went until, finally, Jean pulled into a parking lot.

Marco glanced around the place briefly, noting the sign that dubbed it an outlook, advertising the pinnacles and walking trails. He quirked a brow.

"We're going hiking?" He wondered, looking Jean up and down. "You aren't exactly dressed for that either…"

Jean clucked his tongue, gesturing for Marco to follow him. He did, though he worried Jean would overheat in that leather jacket he insisted on wearing even as they made their way into the trails in the middle of May. It was basically heatstroke waiting to happen.

"We're not going far." Jean promised, as if he'd heard Marco's thoughts. "Just up here." He added, pointing to a rickety looking wooden staircase that wound up a steep climb. Marco steeled himself for it, keeping pace with Jean as they climbed the steps two at a time, pausing warily anytime they creaked dangerously under their weight.

But they eventually made it to the top, albeit redfaced and trying not to pant. Marco noticed a bench and graced it enthusiastically with his bottom. He sighed in appreciation, but it morphed into a groan as Jean plopped himself down in Marco's lap. He could already feel the heat radiating off the other teen, and the bones of his butt prodding into his thighs.

"Jean-" He whined, trying to gently shove the boy off, to no avail. He didn't budge an inch.

"Like you said, I have no ass. I need the extra cushioning." Jean explained, making himself comfortable. Marco groaned.

"Are you calling me fat?" He wondered.

"I'm calling you squishy. And that's a fucking wonderful thing. Do we need to talk about the pudge again? Because my love for it has not wavered." He warned. Marco chuckled, pressing a kiss to Jean's cheek.

"Alright, alright. We don't need to have that conversation again. Just get off. It's too hot for this." He droned, pushing at Jean again. This time, the other boy slid off the bench, back to his feet.

"Come one, we're not quite there yet." He admitted. Marco groaned.

"I thought you said it was close." He complained. Jean chuckled at his misfortune.

"It is, just a little bit more. Come on baby, don't be a wimp."

True to his word, their destination wasn't much further, and Marco was glad he'd opted to continue following.

Apparently all those stairs had taken them to the summit of a decently sized pinnacle, and they'd just walked to the edge of it. Jean had directed Marco down a small hole in the ground, and the teen had been unsure at first, but he followed when Jean went down first. With just a bit of awkward stooping, he found himself in something of small cavern, only the entire cliffside was open. He could see out to the entire park. But other than the front side, they were surrounded by stone and moss.

There was just enough space for them to curl up together safely a few feet from the edge, the view of the rest of the park stellar as they got comfortable in the cool shade. Jean's legs wound up in Marco's lap as they reclined on opposite sides, and Marco's fingers tapped against the toes of his boots as his eyes traced the landscape.

"How did you find this place?" He wondered. Jean grunted out a laugh.

"I was drunk and fell in. Nearly rolled all the way down and off the side." He recalled. Marco swallowed thickly.

"God, Jean, you ought to be more careful." He admonished, tapping a boot particularly hard. Jean threw him a wolfish grin.

"Then I'd never find cool shit like this." He pointed out, gesturing to their current location. Marco only shook his head.

"And if you'd died, I'd have never found you." He explained. Jean blanched, grin faltering as he caught Marco's eyes for real. Then, in a flurry of limbs, he had Marco pressed against the rocky wall with a passionate kiss, one that had them both dizzy.

"You are too much sometimes, you know that?" He asked when he'd pulled away. Marco gave him a lazy smile.

"Says the guy that almost got us arrested today." He retorted. Jean scoffed, collapsing against Marco's chest.

"Are you ever gonna let me live that down?" He wondered. Marco shook his head, letting his hand come up to card through Jean's hair.

"You'll be dead before I do." He promised. Jean sighed heavily, getting cozy.

They watched the landscape get darker with the passing time, deciding to go home while there was still enough daylight for them to get out of the little cave without plummeting to their deaths. The trip down the stairs seemed easier, especially with the cooler evening air, and they made it back to the car without much issue.

Jean drove them home, just in time for family dinner. And it went without a hitch, though both boys were noticeably quieter than usual. It was as if they were scared that they might accidentally mention almost getting arrested. But it never came up, thankfully.

After food, everyone decided to sit down and watch the Road to El Dorado. Marco had never noticed how entirely gay the entire thing was until Jean pointed it out to him. The experience was both ruined and made a million times better by that tidbit.

Once the movie was over, they retreated to their room, and Jean finally disclosed the location of the hidden textbooks. Marco fetched them, but instead of laying them out and getting to work like Jean had expected him to do, he merely packed them away for school the next day, and tossed the bags towards the door. Which he made a point of locking.

Jean's eyes went narrow at the sound of the click. And suddenly he couldn't look away from Marco's every move. Even if he was only walking, it was almost as if his hips had a different sway. Maybe that was just Jean's mind, but oh, it was hot.

Marco wasn't faring any better, honestly. His eyes were already lidded as he made the short trip across his room, face warm as he straddled his boyfriend's lap.

"Mmm, did the movie really get you that horny?" Jean laughed. Marco kissed his neck, cutting the sound short.

"Oh hush. We had a nice, sort of romantic day today. Almost getting arrested aside, of course." He breathed, tangling his fingers in the longer, sandy-blonde hair right where the two colors met. Jean groaned. "So I thought we might finish the day on a similar note." He offered, pulling back to press his lips to Jean's.

Jean didn't have much to say to that, letting his hands do the talking instead as he wrapped them around the other teen's waist, pulling him closer. Marco kept going, though, and Jean soon found himself trapped between the boy's lips and the mattress.

Marco had never really been the aggressive one before; He'd been too nervous about his inexperience to really even try. Apparently, though, he was starting to feel a bit bolder. Jean wasn't about to complain. He remained compliant as Marco's tongue slipped into his mouth, relaxing his posture to allow Marco to do whatever he wanted.

Apparently, Marco wanted a lot, because not even five minutes later they were both naked and panting, rutting against each other and biting their lips against groans that might travel through the house.

He had to steel himself, but Marco eventually worked up the courage to reach out and wrap his hand around the Jean's arousal, giving it slow, languid strokes, smothering the appreciative sounds with more kisses.

Jean let himself enjoy the sensation for a while before trying to return the favor, but Marco batted his hand away, ceasing all contact with a suddenness that had Jean keening.

"Baby?" He prompted. But it started to make sense when Marco scooted back, lowering himself carefully until his lips were mere inches away. Jean felt a shiver run down his spine. "Do you know how to-?" He trailed. Marco smiled apologetically.

"Teach me?" He hoped. Jean nodded, waiting for Marco to get situated before guiding his lips down to the head.

"I'm sure you understand the basics. Licking and sucking. For most guys, the head and the underside are sensitive. But don't just focus on those, or it'll start to get sort of boring." He admitted. Marco nodded, pursing his lips a bit before his tongue darted out, giving the smallest little lick. Jean laughed, pushing dark bangs back from a very flushed face.

"Take it at your own pace, sweetheart. Don't worry about what I think or anything, just relax and figure out what you're doing." He instructed, tracing a thumb over Marco's cheekbone.

Marco took a moment to steel himself, then poked his tongue out again, taking a slow, purposeful lick around the head. Jean shuddered, fingers tightening where they were still tangled in Marco's hair. The bigger teen brought his tongue back, gauging the flavor. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but it wasn't unbearable either. That, at least, was a relief.

A few minutes later and he was giving decent head. He'd even tried deepthroating, though that had quickly proven to be a bad idea for his first time, and Jean made him quit. Even without that, though, Jean had been reduced to a flushed, sweaty, moaning mess that was having trouble not rolling his hips up into his boyfriend's mouth.

"Fuuuuck, Marco!" He gasped, thighs trembling as Marco licked up the underside. "How are you already good at this?" He questioned. Marco only hummed, and Jean jerked, unable to keep himself under control. Marco took it alright, though.

It didn't take long before Jean was on the brink, his thighs quaking with tremendous effort.

"Ma-Marco!" He cried. "Baby, oh! I'm gonna come!" He warned, throwing his head back, eyes shut tight.

Marco knew, somewhere in his mind, that he had some options. He could pull back and just let Jean come on himself, he could keep him in his mouth, and just spit it out, or he could swallow. And he knew, seeing as it was his first time giving a blowjob, that he probably ought to just pull back. But by the time he arrived at that conclusion, Jean was already coming, hard.

Without any time to react, Marco found himself with a mouthful of bitter ejaculation, and a very blissed-out Jean that was entirely oblivious to his boyfriend's plight. He wasn't sure what to do with himself. He didn't think he could swallow it without gagging, if he was being honest. But he couldn't hold it in his mouth much longer either.

Spitting it back on Jean would be kind of a mood killer though.

He was just about to consider running to the bathroom, entirely naked and still hard, when Jean finally seemed to realize what was going on. He quickly reached for the wastebasket, holding it close to Marco's face and waiting for him to spit everything out.

Once his mouth was cleared, Marco stuck his tongue out.

"God, cum is gross." He complained. Jean chortled, pulling Marco in for a kiss, his hand coming to lazily stroke at his boyfriend's lingering erection, earning a sharp inhale and a shaky keen.

"Mmm, it depends on the person. You must eat a lot of fruit." He commented. Marco would have quirked a brow if he wasn't so busy trying not to cry out. "Yours isn't so bad. And you get used to it the more cock you suck. Same with girls, honestly. You were nervous this time, but the more you do it, the more used to it you get, and the more you can relax, and you can get a lot hornier, and when you're super horny, the taste can actually be fucking awesome. But, like I said, it takes some getting used to."

Marco nodded weakly, biting at his hand to muffle his moans, his other hand clinging to Jean's back. His toes were already curling, and his back arched as Jean jerked him off. He started moving quicker, and it didn't take long for Marco to fall over the edge himself, coming with a moan he couldn't bite down.

Now that Marco had been taken care of, Jean could relax, and he pulled the gooey brunette over, having to struggle a bit with his boneless weight. After a while, he gave up and just grabbed Marco's arm, drawing it over his waist as he turned over, letting Marco be the big spoon, for once.

Marco smiled, bending to match Jean's position, splaying his fingers over the other teen's chest. It felt nice to envelope him that way, and he decided he'd have to fight for big spoon rights a little more often. Maybe Jean would be more willing to give them to him, now that he'd had the experience.

Judging by how fast he fell asleep, it was apparently a good sort of experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the ever-necessary apology; Sorry this took so long. It really shouldn't have, but it took me longer than I imagined to get used to my new schedule. Plus I, admittedly, had some writers block. But here we are, with yet another chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> I will tell you guys, I think I'll finish out at 19 or 20 chapters, depending on how chapter 19 goes for me. If I can drag it out to 20, I will, because I'm a lot more comfortable with that number, but we'll see.
> 
> But now the question is, what am I going to do with my life now that this story is wrapping up? I always like to give sort of a preview for my next probable work, but to be honest, I'm not entirely sure which of my stock I'll decide to put out. I have a few that are a couple chapters each that I can pick from, or I might start a new one. Who can say. The one I'm leaning towards is a Mer!Jean fic, and it's pretty humorous, in my opinion. I guess we'll see!
> 
> Alright, I need to get another chapter of Where Wildflowers Grow out soon, so I must attend to that. Thank you guys, as always, for being so patient with me, and for always reading! And thank you for the feedback thus far, too! I look forward to it every chapter! Till next time, my friends!
> 
> KuroRiya  
> 九六りや


	16. Chapter 16

Finals were both dreaded and looked forward to; They'd been studying for weeks, and when the time finally came, it was a relief to know that they were done. But, even after the torturous hours of tests that seemed to go on for pages, a true novel's worth of multiple choice, they still had to worry about the results. Well, most of them did. Armin could have skipped the entire last week of school and still gotten straight A's. Lucky bastard.

Still, even though it would be a couple days before getting to truly be free, a pizza party at Mike's seemed in order. Especially since Reiner said he'd buy for everyone. Free pizza is the best pizza. His wallet was to be pitied though, considering how many teenage boys were in the group. And Sasha. Sasha could eat enough to make a rich man poor all on her own.

Marco had only been to Mike's once before, for one of his older brothers' birthdays, before the Bodts had become a true clan. He remembered the pizza being good, but didn't remember how good until he'd had another slice, at which point the noises he made had Jean rather defensive about his bedroom technique. He wasn't even bothered when the proprietor of the shop decided to give him a sniff. The smirk was a bit troublesome though.

It started as five pizzas, but a flurry of grabbing hands later, and another two pizzas were in order, along with too many hot wings, and Reiner admitted that maybe he couldn't afford to buy everyone pizza. In his defense, the group had gained a few members since the conception of the idea. At first, it was just supposed to be Reiner, Bertholdt, Annie, Jean, and Marco.

Unfortunately, Sasha overheard the conversation, and promptly invited herself and Connie to the gathering. Connie then saw fit to inform Eren, who was not to be left out of free pizza, and dragged his sister and a certain pastel goth along with him. No one was sure where Ymir and Krista came from, but they just 'happened' to show up in time to join the already boisterous crowd.

Poor Reiner had anticipated paying for maybe three pizzas at the most, but had found himself, quiet suddenly, with whole room full of people expecting to stuff their faces. Annie made sure that everyone coughed up, in the end though. And, between them all, it really wasn't much, since Reiner still insisted on paying more than everyone else, since it was supposed to be his treat.

Once the money had been collected, everyone fell into excited chatter, guessing how they did on their finals, and talking about graduation. Marco sat back, staring at his vanilla coke a little too long. Jean wound an arm over his shoulder and kissed his cheek, looking his way with a quirked brow. His piercing glinted with the motion, and Marco was momentarily distracted by it, but his eyes forced themselves down to return Jean's gaze.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Jean asked, grabbing his boyfriend's cup and taking a sip since he'd already finished his own and their server hadn't come around to refill their drinks just yet. Marco shrugged, trying to smile.

"Nothing's wrong, really. It's just… It's a little overwhelming to think that we'll be graduating soon. And then… Well, everything is going to change after that." He offered, voice small. "There won't be a chance for another pizza party all together, and we won't get to see all of our friends laughing together in the same room anymore." Jean was quiet for a long moment, then he let out a little noise of dissent.

"Well babe, I think that depends on how you look at it." He suggested, earning a mildly perplexed look from the boy he had his arm around. "Sure, we'll have diplomas. And some of us are going to move around, go to other cities, other schools. Some of us might wind up in other countries, even." He admitted. Marco frowned at the thought, looking around at the crowd of people he'd come to associate with, already feeling a loneliness, though they hadn't even parted yet.

Jean kissed his cheek again, regaining his full attention.

"But people don't change. We'll all stay fundamentally the same." He promised, a grin curling his lips. "Reiner and Bertholdt will still be the gayest thing since gay came to gay-town."

The two in question glanced over at the mention of their names, and Reiner let out a loud laugh, squeezing Bertholdt's shoulder as if to prove the point, making the taller boy drop the crust he'd been nibbling on.

"Don't know what you guys are talking about, but that's true." He agreed, plastering his lips to a very distressed looking Bertholdt's. Marco let his own pull into a small smile.

"And Ymir will still maim anyone who looks at Krista the wrong way." Jean continued, nodding towards the two girls, the smaller of the two sitting in Ymir's lap as she sipped at a soda. Ymir was holding her waist a little too possessively to be normal, but they'd learned that it was normal for those two.

"Sasha will always eat more than a cow," he promised, pointing to where Sasha was busy swiping a slice of pizza from a table over, eyes focused on her task. Connie snickered next to her, trying to muffle it with his hands. "And Connie will always be a monkey."

Marco chuckled, hand searching blindly for Jean's, lacing their fingers against the vinyl of the booth when he found it. He'd visibly cheered up, which in turn let Jean relax. He still went on though.

"Eren will always be a douchebag with a boyfriend that's too perfect for him." He said, nodding towards Armin, the blonde obviously eyeing his lover's lips as if he wanted nothing more than to kiss them, though Eren was too busy blabbering and boasting about how well he'd done on his tests. "And a sister that's too hot to keep all to himself. Bastard." He mumbled. Marco snorted, nudging Jean in the ribs.

"I thought you said you were over the Mikasa thing." He pointed out, rolling his eyes.

"I am. She's still hot though. I mean, even you have to admit that." Jean argued. Marco only huffed, faking annoyance just long enough to get another kiss. "But I mean, she's clearly messing around with Annie, and that is one couple I wouldn't even think about getting between. Talk about intimidating." Jean mumbled.

Marco laughed again, shaking his head.

"And what about us?" He wondered, and Jean sobered immediately, looking into Marco's big brown eyes seriously. He took a breath before he spoke again.

"Well, that really depends on us, you know? You're too perfect for me to ever willingly leave you. And I hope you like me at least a little, or something." He grinned, earning another rolling of the eyes from his boyfriend. "So as long as I don't fuck up, you know, hopefully we can be almost as gay as Reindeer and Bertl over there."

Marco laughed, scooting closer and resting his cheek against the side of Jean's head.

"I'd like that." He agreed, pressing a smooch to Jean's cheek.

"Get a room!" Eren called from the next booth, sneering in their direction. He didn't have much room to talk, though, seeing as he himself was sporting a bubblegum pink lip-print, courtesy of a very satisfied looking Armin. Jean just made a face at the other teen, defiantly slotting his lips over Marco's, even tracing the unsuspecting teen's teeth with his tongue a few times, just to earn a groan of disgust from Eren. He smirked as he pulled away.

Ymir scoffed at the ensuing makeout war, tousling Krista's hair while she spoke.

"Man, maybe we should spread out. This much concentrated homo might be bad for the environment." She barked, not even flinching when Krista elbowed her. Reiner joined her in her cackling while most everyone else opted to ignore her jibe.

Once the food had been paid for and the server, Nanaba as they'd come to learn, had been generously tipped, they all headed to their respective vehicles, waving goodbyes as everyone headed for home. But not before they were all invited to a graduation party at Bertholdt and Reiner's. Once they made sure every last person had RSVPed, even if somewhat against their wills, they were given permission to leave.

Jean drove slowly for once in his life, and Marco watched the familiar cityscape pass him by, heart a little wistful. He glanced instead to Jean, the one in question focused on driving and singing along to some song on the radio. And Marco couldn't help but add that to his mental repertoire of moments that defined what he loved about Jean.

"Hey, Jean?" He called, waiting till Jean turned the music down to just a low hum.

"Yeah, baby?"

He chewed his lip, searching carefully for his words, trying to pick just the right ones.

"Well… Have you thought about what you want to do after high school?" He asked, looking up as if to catch Jean's eye. But the other teen kept his focus on the road. Still, his expression changed, if only minutely, brows drawing closer together.

"Marry you, of course." Was the simply reply. Marco couldn't help an airy giggle, though on the inside he was swooning. He hadn't even dared to imagine that far into the future, but now visions of a wedding day flashed behind his lids, suits and flowers and probably too many freckled children bustling about, and a romantic honeymoon, and-

"Babe?" Jean cooed, snapping Marco out of his reverie. The darker boy blinked, then laughed.

"Sorry, um, I sort of zoned out. But… Seriously, Jean. Do you have any plans at all?" He questioned, waiting while Jean sorted his thoughts out with a sigh. It took a long while for Jean to respond, his lips pursed and body language pensive.

"To be entirely honest," he began. "I hadn't given it much thought." He admitted. Marco deflated a little, having hoped for something a bit more descriptive. Jean took another sharp breath.

"I assume you're wanting to go to college, or university, or something?" He guessed. Marco nodded, but the motion stopped short.

"Well, I…" He trailed, looking down at his hands, eyes tracing the lines that patterned his palms, as if he might be able to read them for answers to his uncertainties. Too bad he wasn't a fortune teller. "I thought that's what I wanted to do."

Jean spared him a glance, then he took a right instead of a left, driving in the opposite direction from the street they lived on. He pulled up to a small neighborhood park, settling the car into a space and turning it off.

"And now?" He prompted, reminding Marco about what he'd said. The darker boy frowned, wringing his hands together in his lap, watching the motion carefully so he wouldn't have to look up, wouldn't have to see the disappointment.

"I… I know I should go. Everyone wants me to, and… I mean, I'd like to get a degree in something. But…" He breathed, looking instead out of the window, in the direction of his home. "But I worry about my family. It's already pretty tight, as it is." He pointed out. "We live comfortably, but we don't really have any extra money to be throwing around. I can't ask them to pay for college. And I don't know if scholarships would cover it, you know?" He said, voice shuddering a bit.

"To be honest, I don't even know if I'll get any scholarships. And I don't know how to apply for things like that. I just… I don't know where I'm going, and that scares me. I just… I keep forgetting to think about it, but graduation is so soon. I don't have much time left, and it's sort of… Overwhelming." He finished.

Jean was silent for a beat, then he unbuckled his seatbelt, leaning over till he could push his lips to Marco's, pulling the other boy forward and holding him in place while his kisses did all they could to sooth Marco's worries. He pulled away with a contemplative look.

"Marco, first off, I want you to know that no one's expectations are important." Jean stated, voice firm. "It doesn't matter what other people think you ought to do, or what other people want you to be. The only expectations that matter are the ones that you have for yourself."

Marco sucked in a breath, heart hitching in its steady beat. His eyes were already wide, but Jean was apparently far from finished.

"If you want to go to college, then you'll find a way. If you want, I can go with you, and we can talk to the guidance counselor. Maybe you were too busy staring at my handsome face when they visited the senior classes, but they said that they are available to help with scholarships and applications and stuff. So if you want to go, that's where you should start. I'm sure your grades are good enough for a scholarship or two, and you'd be surprised what those'll cover. My mom got a full ride because of her grades, so don't give up on that." He commanded, giving Marco a look.

"And if that isn't enough, then we'll figure it out. We both have a job, and I'm more than happy to help you out." He promised. Marco opened his mouth, but Jean quickly cut the protest short with a kiss.

"Don't try and argue that. I love you, and that's what you do for people you love. You take care of them, and make sure they're as happy as they can be. And I'm not done." He warned, interrupting whatever Marco was about to say in retort. Even though he'd said that, he paused for so long that Marco thought that maybe he really was done. But then he continued.

"But Marco, it's really up to you. If you don't want to go to college, then don't feel pressured to do it. Not everyone goes that route, and it's not the only way to be successful. But don't give up on it just because you're worried about your family."

Marco looked down at his hands, unable to deny that Jean had hit the nail on the head. For that was his biggest concern; What would his family do without him? What if something happened?

"The thing about families is that they always try to be too considerate." Jean grumbled. "They all want to take care of each other, and put their own happiness on a backburner. It's hard for me to understand, what with my old man being the way he is. But then, I guess I do sort of understand… I feel that way with you." He admitted, glancing up at Marco, whose eyes had gone soft with affection. The smaller male flushed, looking at the steering wheel to avoid eye contact.

"Anyway," He grumbled, clearing his throat. "What I'm saying is, it's alright to be a little selfish. But they won't even see it that way. They'd just be happy that you're happy. And that's what's important. You need to do what makes you happy." He concluded, turning again to lock gazes with his lover.

Marco let his mind turn that over a few times, then he sighed, letting his lips slip into a smile, familiar and comfortable.

"You know, you're surprisingly profound sometimes, Jean." He laughed, earning an indignant scoff from the subject of his witticism.

"Surprisingly? Are you kidding? I should be a philosopher!" Jean growled, eyes narrow. Marco snickered, relaxing back into the seat of the car.

"If you say so." He offered, though his voice denoted his insincerity. Jean huffed, but didn't say much else on the subject.

They remained in the parking lot a few more wordless minutes, then Jean started his car again, backing out and heading for the correct street this time. Marco found himself humming along to a song he couldn't remember the name of by a band with a name he couldn't say in front of his mother for fear of a time out. Jean sang the lyrics a little off-key.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first thing I have to say is sorry for the wonky upload. I hecked up and accidentally reposted chapter one. Sorry about that! It's fixed now!
> 
> Well, guys, I'm currently working on the final chapter! We're gonna finish out at an even twenty! And the last chapter, at least for me, is cavity inducing. Just to warn you. Be prepared.
> 
> I'm stoked to post the graduation chapter, which might be the next one, if I remember right. It was also a lot of fun to write! This story is sort of my way of spoiling myself, I suppose, because it's mostly just fun for me. I'm a bit sad to see it end, but all good things.
> 
> Let's not say premature goodbyes, though. Four more chapters my lovelies!
> 
> It snowed yesterday, and I am so stoked for winter! I got Jean hair just in time to start covering it up with beanies. It's funny that I'd have Jean hair when I relate to Marco better. I gotta say, though, I feel pretty rad. Now if I could just find myself a nice girlfriend to snuggle and be queer with. Or a boyfriend. Christ.
> 
> The funny thing is, I've actually got two guys interested, but I just, hnnng. I'm too awkward and I'm an actual loser and I feel too queer lately to date a guy. The woes of a pansexual. I'll stick to spicy cheese and fanfiction at five AM.
> 
> Alright, I should get back to work on the last chapter, so it's perfect and stuff. Till next time! Thanks for reading, and feedback is what keeps me going in lieu of a romantic partner. Keep it coming my darlings.
> 
> KuroRiya  
> 九六りや


	17. Chapter 17

As they would come to find out, they'd both done exceptionally well on their finals. In fact, they did well enough that they'd be graduating within the top percentile of the senior class. As much as he had complained about all the studying, Jean seemed ecstatic about his grades. In his own slouchy, reserved way, at least.

The seniors got out of school a week earlier than everyone else, but they wouldn't graduate for about a week and a half, technically, so they spent their days trying to focus on work while buzzing with excitement and anticipation. Levi was clearly annoyed by their hyperactive antics, but Hanji seemed to think it was endearing, for whatever reason, and gave them extra muffins to take home every day. Apparently they thought sugar was in order.

When it was finally time for the real deal, both boys were nervous enough that Mrs. Bodt had to actually pull them out of the bed, by their feet, and then complain about their nakedness. Apparently, in the Bodt house, boxers don't count as clothing.

They got dressed in quiet, only breaking the silence to ask which shirt they ought to wear, and whether the blue tie would complement it. Once they were both dressed, they turned to look each other over. Jean sucked in a breath, eyes tracing up, down, and then back up again.

"Wow, sweetheart. You clean up nice." He commented, tugging Marco forward by the tie for a kiss. Marco yelped as he was jerked, but as soon as the fear of strangulation passed, he relaxed, rolling his eyes.

"You messed up my tie." He pointed out. "And did yours wrong." He added.

Jean scoffed, looking down at the article in question with distaste.

"I hate these stupid things." He growled, fingering the fake silk listlessly. Marco laughed, undoing the knot in one smooth motion. Jean huffed, glaring up at the other teen. "It took me, like, fifteen minutes to do that!"

Marco rolled his eyes, walking around behind his boyfriend and reaching around to pick up the two ends of the tie, redoing the knot with practiced ease.

"Oh, you're good at that." Jean offered, leaning back against the bigger's chest when he'd finished tying. Marco gladly wrapped his arms around the other, pressing his nose against his hair, letting the familiar smell flood his senses.

It was so familiar that he sort of missed it. Now his entire room smelled a bit like Jean, which was nice, but Marco liked the concentrate a bit better.

Jean chuckled, the sensation a bit ticklish.

"What is it with you and smelling me?" He wondered, covering Marco's hands with his own. The other boy made a noise at the back of his throat, face getting red with embarrassment at being caught, and he took a moment to think about the answer to that. Well, the least creepy answer he could manage, anyway.

"Well, um…" He trailed, pursing his lips. "I just like the way you smell. It's sort of… Comforting." He tried to explain. He was thankful that Jean didn't seem offended or freaked out, at least.

"Really? I can't smell that great. I mean, I smell like-"

"Cologne and soap and smoke." Marco provided. Jean quirked a brow.

"I still smell like smoke?" He inquired. Marco nodded, shrugging.

"Mostly just your clothes, especially the ones we haven't put through the wash yet. It's alright though. I sort of like it." He admitted, earning a look from his boyfriend. "I don't want you to start smoking again or anything, but it's not a terrible smell." He added defensively. Jean just shook his head.

"You're something else." He commented, turning around to make their position a true embrace. "And you look great."

Marco smiled, kissing his boyfriend's cheek happily.

"You do too." He replied.

They parted, and headed downstairs. As per usual with any event, be it major or minor, the Bodt clan had assembled at the bottom of the stairs, and Mrs. Bodt began to take a million and one pictures with an ancient camera, the flash going off about five times before either boy could even blink.

"Mom, please-" Marco began, but he was quickly cut off.

"Hush." She snapped, taking even more pictures. Marco sighed dramatically, trying to force a smile on. If Jean could do it, then so could he, he reasoned. Jean, actually, looked like he was rather enjoying the attention. And maybe he was. He didn't have this sort of thing with his parents, so it was probably refreshing for him.

It was easier to smile with that thought. If Jean was happy, it was hard for Marco not to be.

Still, it took thirty minutes for them to even get out to the car, courtesy of too many siblings and too many photos. Marco took a relieved but exasperated breath as soon as they'd made it out, flopping into the passenger's side with exhaustion he hadn't woken up with.

"They are so ridiculous." He commented once Jean was inside as well.

"They're your family. That's sort of their job." The other suggested, shrugging as he started the car and picked a CD from his collection. As soon as he'd decided on his tunes, they were headed for the basketball arena where the graduation would take place, two hours before the ceremony was even supposed to begin. Because, apparently, they would need that time to prepare, even though they'd already practiced. Marco wasn't going to question it. Jean might though.

When they arrived, they noticed Reiner and Bertholdt outside, talking to each other. Bertholdt looked about as nervous as Marco felt, but Reiner seemed pretty comfortable, despite the too-small shirt he was nearly bursting out of. They said hello when Jean and Marco approached, and decided to follow them in. Bertholdt's slacks, as per usual, showed way too much ankle. Marco saw a flash of penguin socks, and laughed to himself, focusing on the hilarity rather than his nervousness.

As it would turn out, the two hours early thing was bullshit, because literally everyone was just milling about and talking to each other anxiously, rumpling their nice clothes and smearing their makeup. Marco and Jean joined in, chatting mostly with Reiner and Bertholdt, learning about where they wanted to go in life, and how they planned to get there.

As promised, Jean had taken Marco to the counselor to ask about scholarships. And, after some forms and two essays, Marco had managed to get himself enough scholarships for a couple of years at the local community college. It had taken a lot of careful consideration, but Marco had decided to at least give it a try. And, on the bright side, he could still live at home and keep his job. That was a nice security blanket.

Jean, as he'd decided early on, had opted not to go. At least for the time being. But that was alright with Marco, and he'd already talked it over with Mrs. Bodt, who had come to understand the decision.

But, for now, they tried to focus on the task at hand, which was currently finding their correct seats. Because, of course, they were going alphabetically. His nerves were rising as Marco glanced at Jean, his stomach churning unpleasantly. Jean seemed to sense his plight, and gave him a quick kiss.

"Hey, no need to panic. You just go up, get a paper, and bam, you're a respectable member of society." He promised, earning a small giggle from his boyfriend. Jean smiled too. "And afterwards, we'll go eat something with your family, and when we get home we'll fuck till-" He was cut off by a teacher shoving him toward his proper seat, but he'd accomplished what he needed to. Marco was smiling again.

Marco sat pretty close to Reiner and Sasha, but not close enough that he could talk to them. It was nice to be able to see them, though. Jean was several rows back, and Marco could only see him if one guy moved his head to the left a little bit. That wasn't much to hope for, so he faced forward, taking a deep breath as it was announced that the guests were going to start coming in in a few minutes.

Graduation was always something he thought he'd do, but he'd never really imagined the way it would feel. He was excited, but also scared, and the two were conflicting hard enough that he couldn't think of much else.

On the one hand, he'd made it. Thirteen years of school, and he'd managed all of them. He'd gotten good grades, and had kept himself mentally intact long enough to get his diploma. Sure, it wasn't really a huge deal if you didn't, not anymore. People made do without them. But still, it was something he'd accomplished. And he'd helped Jean accomplish it too. He hoped that Jean was as proud to have finished his education as Marco was proud of him.

But on the other hand, there was the uncertainty of his future. Sure, he'd managed to get some scholarships and an acceptance to a college. But what if it was too hard? What if he couldn't handle it? What if he disappointed everyone? And if he couldn't get through college, what would he do for the rest of his life? Would he live in his parents' house with his boyfriend until he was forty, working at the queer café till he died? And if he did get through college, what would he do? He didn't even know what he'd major in, let alone what kind of job he'd want.

He felt his pocket vibrate, eyes going wide. He'd forgotten that he wasn't supposed to bring his phone in, but it was too late at that point. Making sure there weren't any teachers looking, he slipped it out and glanced over the text. His worry lines turned instead into a small grin.

I can feel u freakin out from back here. Chill, babe :P

He chortled quietly to himself, texting back as discreetly as he could.

I am perfectly calm, thank you very much. Thanks though. 3

He slipped it back in his pocket, figuring that was the end of that. After all, they'd just started the ceremony. The principal was saying a bunch of nice things that they probably didn't really mean. And then Armin got up, apparently having been selected as valedictorian. Marco smiled, listening attentively to what the boy had to say.

"Well, to be completely honest, they sprung this speech on me sort of last minute. Apparently the original valedictorian decided to take an early vacation, and couldn't be here tonight. He was a soccer player, I think, which is why he was the first choice. Athletes are more popular, so they're the ones you want to get speeches from. But you know, things happen. So you get me instead."

Marco laughed along with the rest of the senior class, though several parents were obviously a bit disgruntled by Armin's casual attitude. Or maybe they were more concerned with the pink platforms sticking out from under his graduation gown. Or the creamy pink color of his lips. Armin didn't seem fazed.

"I'm sure I'm not the person most of the parents want to see up here. It doesn't matter that I got above a 4.0, or that I was involved in several of the academic clubs, or that I tutored more people than I could count. In fact, I know a few of you out in the crowd wouldn't be here without me. But, like I said, that doesn't matter. Because I'm not perfect. I'm not the football player that you want to see. I'm standing up here in a pink dress and platforms, and confusing your binary minds."

At this point, the principal looked worried, as if he wanted to put an end to Armin's speech, but was afraid of the repercussions. Marco grinned, giving the blonde a thumbs-up when he caught his eye. Armin winked.

"But the thing is, this speech isn't for you. It's for us. We're the ones graduating, we're the ones that did the work. We're the ones that got up every day way before we should have had to, and came to this place to sit in uncomfortable plastic chairs for hours of our lives that we'll never get back. We're the ones that studied away our youth. We were children when we first got here, and now, look at us. We're old enough to drive and have jobs and move out and support ourselves."

He paused, taking a breath and searching his mind for the words that he wanted to say.

"A lot of people say high school flies by. That's how it always is in the movies, and everyone makes it seem like they're going to miss it so much. Maybe I'm just speaking for myself, but this has been the longest four years of my life. Maybe later on in life I'll forget how miserable it was, but for now, I have to say, high school has been the most stressful, painful, difficult time of my life."

Now the principal really looked like he might drag Armin off the stage, even as a chorus of "yeah" and "no fucking kidding" rang out from the class. Armin continued, not swayed in the least.

"I know I'm not the only one that dealt with bullies and asshole teachers. I'm not the only one so used to taunts and scathing comments that I hardly even hear them anymore. And I know a few of you out there to be the bullies. Maybe you have your reasons, maybe you don't. Others of you don't even have a name to me. I won't remember your face if I see you in the paper. I won't recall your name when we have a reunion. And there are some of you that I know so intimately that I'll never forget you."

Marco joined in on the little cheer that came from Armin's friend group, knowing he could hear Jean's shout as well, even with all the other voices.

"The thing is, it doesn't matter anymore." He announced, everyone going quiet. "It doesn't matter if you shoved me into a locker or if the guy sitting next to you spilled his lunch on you one time, or if your ex is boring holes into the back of your head as I speak. It doesn't matter that I'm gay, or that you hate me for that, or that the girl in the last row is a transgender, or that you hated the guy from your math class from the day you met him, or that the girl two rows back got better grades." He paused, the dramatic effect perfect.

"It doesn't matter, because, right here and now, we're all equal."

Again, it was silent enough that they could hear some lady drop her camera in the stands.

"We all made it. We're all graduating today. We toughed it out, and here we stand. We're getting our diplomas, and starting our lives. Some of us will go to college, some of us will get jobs, some of us will bum out in our parents' basements collecting needlessly expensive things and dust. But none of that matters either. Because, right here and right now, we're all the same. We did it."

A murmur of excitement grew into a roar of whoops and cheers, and even the parents began to join in. Armin waited for everyone to calm down before resuming.

"Anyway, this was supposed to be, what, a five minute speech? Sorry I kept talking, I guess I had more to say than I thought. Sorry again for not being a football player or something. Just remember, you earned this, and your life starts all over again right here and now. Good luck everyone, and congratulations." He finished, stepping away from the podium and giving a graceful little curtsey with his gown, then he trotted over to his seat and waited with everyone else for the list of names to begin.

The staff still seemed baffled by the creature affectionately called Armin, but eventually got their butts into gear and started calling the names. They went by rows, and Marco was two rows back, so he had a moment. Too nervous to just sit and watch, and already having cheered for Mikasa and Armin, he slipped his phone out of his pocket again. It was honestly more of an anxious tick than a real desire to check it, but he was glad he did it.

Jean had, apparently, texted him again after all. And it was perfect. It was what Marco needed.

I couldn't be more proud to be able to share this with you. And it's because of you. You look beautiful, and we fucking did it, baby. I'm going to kiss you so hard you'll see stars, but we just gotta make it through this cheesy ceremony first. Go get that piece of paper, you fucking earned it. I love you.

He giggled with delight, heart swooning from the simple words. Jean might not be the most eloquent, but he knew exactly what to say. One of the many things on Marco's list of why he loved the other teen to pieces.

Marco shook a bit as his row stood up, fingers tapping against his leg as he waited, clapping for Sasha when it was her turn. His pocket vibrated again, and, as much as he knew he really oughtn't, especially since someone really might see him right there, he pulled it out, seeing another text from Jean.

3

He really laughed, earning a few looks as he hid the device under his gown again. His grin wouldn't falter after that, not even when it was his name being called. Not even as he was shaking the principal's sweaty hand, or when he'd been handed the little booklet that contained his diploma. He could hear his family shouting from the stands, the roar pretty loud compared to some people, considering how much of his family had attended. Even some of the more distant relatives had driven up for it.

But Jean's voice was, by far, the loudest. Marco followed it to where Jean had stood up, even though he wasn't supposed to, and was yelling obnoxiously. Marco grinned his way, blowing a kiss before sitting down. Quite a few students chuckled, and Armin brushed his hand with a beaming smile as he passed on his return to his seat.

Marco cheered for his other friends as they took their turns, but he was really waiting for Jean. And when it was finally his turn, Marco made sure he cheered the loudest, made sure he'd be heard even over the clan of Bodts who had come prepared to celebrate for Jean as well.

He'd expected Jean to make some obscene gesture, or maybe turn to face the crowd with a smug look, or maybe for him to take off all of his clothes and run out of the building, diploma in hand, cackling wildly. Anything was more likely than what he actually did.

He cried. He actually cried, real tears, in front of everyone. He, of course, tried to play it off, but it was pretty obvious. And, unable to stop himself, Marco grabbed his wrist as he scurried back to his seat, tugging him closer so he could wipe his tears away and press a kiss to his lips. Jean hiccupped pathetically, though he still tried to hide it, in vain.

"Congratulations, Jean." Marco breathed, kissing him again. "You did it." He added, finally letting Jean go as a teacher began to head their direction, most likely to separate them, waving his boyfriend off as he tried to walk and wipe his face at the same time.

When everyone had gotten their official documents, and the ceremony was deemed over, the customary throwing of caps commenced, followed by everyone scrambling to find their hat, and then their families. Jean and Marco lingered, though, waiting till the mass confusion had died down before even trying to locate the Bodts.

They met somewhere in the middle, and Jean wedged himself against Marco's chest, practically crushing him with a hug as he attempted to not be obvious about crying into his shoulder. Marco only smiled, patting his back and kissing his cheek on occasion.

"These trash bags they make us wear are made out of paper, you know? If you keep crying on me, it's going to melt off." He laughed. Jean let out a mangled scoff. Marco went silent again, just rubbing circles in the other teen's back as he waited for the tears to subside.

"Thank you for the heart." He finally said, managing to get a shaky laugh out of his lover.

Jean pulled back, looking up at him with glassy eyes, sniffing once before speaking.

"Thank you for making me do this."

Marco's eyes went wide, then he shook his head quickly.

"I didn't make you do it. You did it. I just helped." He argued. "But I'm happy you did." He added, stealing another kiss before lacing their fingers, ignoring the looks they were getting from the staff that was still milling about. "Come on, let's go find our crazy family. You have to meet the extended relatives. Nonna is going to have a heyday with you. I'll bet you ten dollars she says you're too skinny."

Jean laughed, letting Marco lead him towards the doors. It wasn't hard to find the group in question, considering literally all of them, with the exception of one tall, pale blonde and one very short redhead, were somewhere on the scale between olive-skinned and cocoa brown, dark haired, and covered in freckles. And they also started shouting and waving wildly when the two boys were in sight. Just in case they could be missed.

Once they'd walked over, they were enveloped in way too many limbs for it to really be called a hug, courtesy of the crowd of children. Then Marco's parents wrapped them each in individual hugs. An older woman, who Jean assumed was probably the aforementioned 'Nonna' stepped forward, crushing her grandson to her before turning to Jean.

He expected maybe a handshake, or maybe an introduction, but he really shouldn't have been surprised when he received the same bone-crushing hug as Marco. It actually winded him, and he had to gasp for breath when she sat him back on the ground.

"Marco, what on earth are you feeding this boy? He's a twig!" She screeched, squeezing his waist as if to make sure she hadn't just hallucinated his stature. Marco laughed, shooting Jean a triumphant, smug look before shrugging.

"He eats more than I do, Nonna. I don't think he'd gain weight if I fed him butter for a month." He replied. She huffed, shaking her head.

"Just send him home with me. I'll fatten him up." She promised.

Jean laughed nervously, inching back towards Marco, finding his hand and squeezing. Marco squeezed back, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

"Nonna, you're scaring him." He pointed out, rolling his eyes when she stuck her tongue out. "And acting like a five year old." He amended.

"I am a five year old." She shot back. "A seventy-five year old." She cackled, thinking herself rather clever. Everyone chuckled along, even Jean.

"Alright, alright, you guys. Jean only knows, like, a fourth of you. And I can't remember all of your names. Why don't you introduce yourselves before you give him a heart attack?" Marco suggested.

So the next twenty minutes was spent on introductions, too many names for Jean to possibly remember, and too many faces for him to commit to memory. He hoped they wouldn't be offended if he forgot.

Once everyone was acquainted, they all piled into whatever vehicles had gotten them there, and headed for a restaurant on the other side of town.

Most of the seniors probably went to nice places with their parents. Places with fancy dishes that they could hardly pronounce, and meals that would definitely cost more than fifteen dollars a person. The Bodts, of course, couldn't afford that. And a Chinese buffet was, by no standards, fancy. Still, as they all squeezed into one section of the seating, taking up three long tables despite their best efforts and several extra chairs, Marco felt higher than he had in a long time. He could tell Jean was feeling the same way.

The poor people working were in no way prepared to feed so many people on such short notice, but in the end, they apparently decided they liked the huge family taking up half their restaurant, for they brought a special plate of cakes to congratulate Jean and Marco after they'd learned about their graduation.

It didn't even matter that the little roll cakes, which had been arranged in a big circle, said 'congratulations John and Mario' in bright red icing. It didn't even matter that they only got one cake to share after the children had gotten to the platter. And it didn't even matter that Nonna was still complaining about how skinny Jean was and trying to force more food onto his plate.

It was blissful. Marco could tell that Jean was eating up the family atmosphere, that he was drinking in the feeling of acceptance and love. And his joy, albeit muted to just a stupid grin and some serious blushing, was enough to have Marco beaming through the entire night, laughing openly with his family and being more grateful for them than he'd ever been before.

The restaurant ran out of fortune cookies about halfway through the family, but they made sure Jean and Marco had one, even though they had to share. The family seemed to think that was a good idea anyway, since apparently they were a collective being now.

'The best is yet to come' it said.

They shared a look, then laughed, following the procession out to the parking lot and waiting till they'd said their goodbyes and given out hugs before getting into Jean's car and pressing their lips together, ignoring the taste of garlic, imitation crab, and subtle vanilla from the cookie that they'd split.

"I don't know if it can get much better than this." Jean whispered, pecking Marco's lips again. Marco sighed dreamily, finding Jean's hand and filling the spaces between the fingers with his own.

"Trust the fortune cookie, for it knows all." Marco replied, laughing at the sound Jean made in response. They stared at each other for a long while, ignoring the purring of the motor in favor of each other.

"Your family is fucking fantastic." Jean finally said. Marco rolled his eyes, chortling at the thought.

"It's definitely huge." He offered. "Poor managers. They had no idea what they were getting into, letting my family in. We're literally that rowdy Italian family you always see on television shows. We even hug and everything." He groaned. Jean smirked.

"That's not a bad thing." He pointed out. Marco smiled as well.

"I suppose not." He agreed, leaning back. Jean pulled out of the space and headed for the house, actually letting Marco pick a radio station. He only scoffed once when Marco found a soft rock station. He didn't even make him change it when he started singing along to a Lady Gaga song. He might have even sung along himself. But he promised Marco an early grave if he ever mentioned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three more to go my little ones! The last one is cute, promise!
> 
> Armin for valedictorian, always. I'm actually not to fond of the whole 'ranking' system, but Armin definitely deserves the valedictorian spot. And I'm not sure how universal the GPA system is, so here's a little explanation, just in case: GPA stands for grade point average. It's sort of a complicated process, but to sum it up, all of your grades are totaled up at the end of the year, and added to a cumulative GPA. When you finish high school, your GPA is sort of what determines how well you do. A 4.0 is the best you can get. But some schools have weighted classes, typically the Advanced Placement ones, so it is possible to get a bit higher than that.
> 
> I probably made it more confusing. Well, I tried.
> 
> Anyway, my roommate wants to marathon some cartoons, so I must away. Thanks for sticking around, and I'll see you guys next time! Feedback is always appreciated, but I'm sure you guys know that by now.
> 
> KuroRiya  
> 九六りや


	18. Chapter 18

It was strange to wake up in the afternoon every day, and not have to dread the coming school day. It was strange to think that, even when summer break was over, they didn't technically have to go back to school. Marco, of course, would be starting classes at the college then, but that wasn't required. Social workers wouldn't come beating down their door demanding his compliance with the law should he not go.

Not feeling that obligation was freeing, yet also sort of unsettling. The lack of familiar responsibility yet plethora of new responsibility had them both nursing an uncomfortable giddiness in their stomachs as they went through the motions of each day.

After a bit of hassling from one Mrs. Bodt, they both set up bank accounts and started saving some money, because apparently living in the Bodt house until they were forty was not an option. And, to be honest, Marco was kind of warming up to the idea of moving out. As much as he loved his family, having his own space was something he definitely could get used to.

Jean, of course, agreed that it was a good idea, though he insisted that they visit frequently. He wouldn't say it out loud, but Marco knew he would miss being surrounded by so many people that loved him after being pretty much on his own for so much of his life. He couldn't blame the other teen, but nor could he be stopped from keeping an eye out for apartments nearby.

And, as much as it might not have been the best idea, they wound up moving out about three weeks after Marco's 19th birthday. The apartment wasn't really that far from the Bodt house, but it was closer to the college, and they made enough, collectively, to afford it, albeit not much else besides.

There was much crying on behalf of the Bodt children and Mrs. Bodt, as well as more pictures. It took about four trips to get everything they owned into their new home, and two more a day or so later to get things they'd managed to forget.

They didn't have much to start with, as was to be expected. The couch was an old futon mattress shoved against the wall in the living room across from an ancient box TV that had dead pixels in the top left corner, found shoved under the stairs in the basement. It stood proudly on a cardboard box that advertised patio furniture that they did not own.

Their bed was just Marco's from his room, and their kitchen table was one they'd scavenged off of a corner. All in all, nothing matched, everything was older than they were, and the apartment smelled sort of like Marco's aunt. But it was theirs, and that's all that really mattered in the end.

Marco was busy trying to put away a few groceries. Groceries, for them, included about a dozen frozen pizzas, a box of bagel bites, some chicken noodle soup, a gallon of milk, and stuff to make a sandwich. That was about all they could afford, but it was food.

Of course, just as he was stacking the cans of soup in the pantry, he felt a pair of arms snake around his waist, tugging just enough that he lost his balance and toppled backwards. Luckily, Jean was behind him, having been the one to tug, and caught him with relative ease, trapping him tightly against his chest.

"Jeaaaan." Marco whined, doing his best to right himself while still being held in place by his boyfriend. "I'm trying to put away the soup."

Jean snorted, pressing kisses along his neck, effectively distracting him from the task at hand.

"Baby." He began, lips finding that spot under Marco's earlobe and sucking gently, earning a decent shiver from the taller boy. "We just moved into a new apartment. Where we will live together. Alone." He pointed out.

Marco blinked, turning his head to look over his shoulder at the other, brow quirked.

"Uh, yeah. I'm aware. I still need to put the soup away." He argued. Jean sighed dramatically, kissing more incessantly.

"Baby." He repeated, stressing the word. "Come on! There are much better things we could be doing. We need to break this place in." He explained. Marco's brows only furrowed as he reached to put another can into the pantry. Jean groaned.

"Marco D'Angelo Bodt, for the love of god, I have a fucking boner and I am trying to get your oblivious ass into bed. The soup can wait, I want you naked right now." He snapped, gently shoving the other boy in the general direction of the room they'd made into their bedroom.

Marco was a little baffled, his eyes wide and mind not quite up to speed as he was shepherded into bed. Even his blush was delayed, not finding his cheeks until Jean was already half naked and nuzzling shamelessly at a growing bulge in Marco's pants. Well, at least one part of his body was keeping up.

"J-Jean-" He breathed, heart already racing enough that his speaking was quick and nervous-sounding.

"I swear to god, if you say something about the groceries, I'm going to-"

Marco laughed, shaking his head.

"I got all the perishables put away. But we don't even have sheets on yet!" He pointed out. Jean rolled his eyes hard enough it looked painful, crawling up so that he could pull Marco's shirt over his head, effectively straddling his lap in the process.

"It'll be fine. Just don't cum all over the bed." He suggested. Marco let out a little gasp as Jean rolled his hips, gritting his teeth in a bid to not disturb the new neighbors.

"That's easy for you to say!" He whined, fingers trailing across the mattress and through the folds of the comforter until they found Jean's hips. He held onto those, using the grip to urge Jean into moving, despite his verbal protest.

"You're right, it is." Jean agreed, moving for a few seconds more before collapsing forward to capture Marco's lips again, tongue working insistently against the seam between till Marco parted them and allowed Jean to plunge inside.

Marco was gasping by the time Jean pulled back to moan, lungs desperate for air but lips desperate for more. His lungs apparently won out, though, for he simply lay panting as Jean stilled in his lap, a whine coming out when he found he couldn't really initiate the pleasant sensation from his position. He looked up at his boyfriend, mind torn between annoyance and confusion.

Jean could apparently read whatever emotion he had, though, for he offered a sheepish blush.

"Um… So I was thinking…" He began.

"A dangerous pastime." Marco commented, earning a groan from the other.

"Don't Disney at me right now, I have something serious to say!"

"Jean, I swear to god, if you say something about the groceries-"

That elicited a snort of a laugh, Jean's posture relaxing.

"Man, I am a bad influence on you. I swear you weren't this sassy when we met." He commented, carefully maneuvering out of the darker's lap so that he could sit beside him, waiting till Marco sat up as well to begin again.

"Anyway, you were saying?" Marco prompted. Jean sighed, looking down at his hands awkwardly.

"Well, um…" He hesitated, his face flushing a pretty pink that was just begging for a kiss that Marco was happy to give, leaning over till his lips found a warm cheek. They only got warmer after that. "We've, uh, been together a while now, you know?" Jean offered, glancing Marco's way and watching him nod his affirmation.

"The time sort of flew, huh? It doesn't feel like it's been months, but…" The taller mused.

"That's true, but not the point." Was the reply, and Marco quirked a brow, returning his attentive gaze once more to the boy beside him. He stayed silent this time, waiting for the other to explain further. Again, it was a long time before Jean spoke, and his breath was shaky when he did.

"Alright, look; What I'm trying to get out in probably the most awkward way ever is that I was thinking that maybe we could, uh… Try… You know."

Marco's brows furrowed, his mind perplexed as he tried to understand.

"Er… Do I know?" He asked awkwardly, feeling bad when Jean flinched, his face getting even redder.

"Oh my god, this is so fucking embarrassing and I don't even know why but it is I want to fuck you." He gushed, all on one breath. Marco's eyes were wide, though his brows drew together in confusion as he sorted the meanings out.

"Okay?" He offered, no more enlightened than before. "I thought we were doing that anyway?"

Jean froze at that, his posture going rigid with what appeared to be painful realization. So Marco had misunderstood, somehow.

"So, that's obviously not what you meant? You're going to have to at least give me a hint, Jean. I can't read minds." The brunette pointed out, biting his lip with worry, since Jean looked about ready to pass out.

"Fuck, Marco, seriously?" The smaller groaned, rubbing his eyes roughly. "I want to… You know. Uh… Go all the way?" He tried, using the words cautiously, as if afraid he wasn't using them correctly.

And finally, Marco understood, his eyes lighting up as he put the pieces together, then his face went just about the same shade of crimson as Jean's had slowly been working up to.

"Oh!" He squeaked, too embarrassed about what was being proposed to be any more embarrassed about the horrendously prepubescent sound he'd somehow uttered. Jean didn't even seem to notice, too busy trying to look cool while obviously tempted to burrow into the earth and hide for a few millennia.

The silence between them was warm, awkward, and pretty much the most uncomfortable thing that had ever transpired between them, but still, they both stayed put, doing their best to calm down enough to at least discuss the topic at hand. Marco somehow got it under control first.

"You want to… Um… I mean, I've never… You're talking about, like…" He stuttered, apparently not as put together as he'd like to think he was.

"Like, anal." Jean supplied, burying his face in his hands, voice muffled by his skin.

Marco honestly thought he might faint considering how dizzy he felt. But he got the feeling that a trip to the hospital might kill the mood, somehow.

"Have… Have you ever?" He inquired shakily, glancing over in time to see Jean nodding.

"A few times, actually. I don't know why I'm acting like this. It's just… Different with you, I guess." He admitted, heaving a deep sigh as he tried to regain his calm. "And I don't want to fuck it up. That's why I asked, you know? I want to make sure you're alright with it." He rambled, hands wringing nervously in his lap. Marco thought it kind of endearing, but didn't comment on that, instead easing his hand into Jean's, squeezing gently until the other boy finally turned to look his way. He took a breath.

"If it's with you, how could I not want to?" He asked softly, lips pursing as he waited for Jean to comprehend. "Just… Talk me through it? Let me know what's going on." He added as an afterthought. "That'll help."

Jean inhaled sharply, as if he'd been anticipating a different answer, but he nodded, hand coming up and finding Marco's jaw, guiding him easily into a kiss. And it remained a kiss for a long time, the two finding their earlier positions, tongues meeting somewhere between their mouths as they let themselves fall back into the comfort of familiarity.

Their little trance of love wasn't broken till Jean reached clumsily for the bedside table, missing utterly and nearly falling off the bed entirely. Marco caught him, laughing as his boyfriend grumbled, successfully managing to get the drawer open and pull out a little bottle.

Marco, as innocent as he was compared to Jean, wasn't stupid. He was a teenage boy, and he knew what lube was, even if he was too embarrassed to buy any for himself. He'd never seen that particular bottle, but he knew it had definitely come from Jean.

As if feeling the need to rekindle the mood, Jean kissed him again, letting out a breath against his throat, so warm it was almost unpleasant.

"Do you want me to use a condom?" He asked close to Marco's ear, waiting for an answer before moving further.

"Um… Should you?" Marco wondered, brow quirked. "We've never used them before." He pointed out.

"No, but uh… This is sort of different. I mean, we're not doing the same thing, you know?" Jean explained, fingers dancing along Marco's sides, though out of nervousness or fondness, neither knew.

"Well, I think… That should be up to you. You know better than I do." The darker boy offered, stomach fluttering with a new anxiousness. He was starting to realize this was completely new territory, but he really did want to share it with Jean. That didn't mean he wasn't a bit scared though.

"But it's not really my choice as much as yours." Jean replied. "You're affected by it more than I am. Like… You don't have to worry about STDs, of course. But if we don't use one, then it's going to be messier, mostly for you. And that's not a big deal, we can shower after, but if you'd rather not, then we can just-"

Marco chuckled, pressing a finger to Jean's lips to put a halt to his word vomit.

"If you don't mind showering, then we can just go without. I'm a little too impatient to wait for you to find one, because I know you keep them in your wallet which is probably still sitting in your car."

Jean's mouth gaped for a beat, then he huffed, kissing in the most passive-aggressive manner he could, fondling Marco's body with a pouty finesse that only he could possess, earning an unsympathetic laugh from the other boy.

Stripping didn't take long, nor did getting into position. They honestly didn't pause again until Jean's hands froze against Marco's hips, eyes darting towards the bottle he'd lain on the mattress close to Marco's shoulder, swallowing a little too hard.

Marco nodded, though his own stomach lurched, watching with rapt attention as Jean popped the lid open and squeezed until the lube came out, pooling in the middle of his left palm. He closed the bottle with just his right hand, then dipped his fingers into the liquid.

"That seems sort of… Thick?" Marco commented, voice wavering, showing his nerves. Jean nodded, rubbing it between his fingers a bit.

"This is sort of specifically for gay guys." He explained. "Since your ass is definitely different from… Well, you know." He finished, awkwardly lowering his hand, hovering but not quite touching. Marco wasn't sure whether he wanted to watch or hide his face. He settled in the middle, draping an arm over the majority of his face, only barely able to peek out and watch Jean stare at him, seemingly enraptured.

Marco began shifting around when the staring became too much, drawing his knees as close as he could with Jean settled between them.

"Jean, stop staring!" He whined, feeling his flush creep down his shoulders too. Jean glanced up, catching his eye for a moment before returning to his staring.

"Sorry." He offered, obviously not meaning it. "I just… Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?" He wondered, leaning over to kiss a tanned thigh. Marco groaned, grabbing a pillow and smothering his own face with it.

"Oh my god Jean, no-" He mumbled.

"Oh my god Marco, yes." Jean cut him off, kissing the other leg. "I don't tell you that enough. Just don't forget it, okay? You need to know."

Marco threw the pillow in frustration, glaring down at the other teen.

"For Christ's sake, quit stalling." He complained, and Jean's face immediately belied his guilt. "Do it before my nerves get the better of me."

Jean bit his lip, hesitating for a few more moments before plunging forward, fingers slick but warm, doing his best to talk Marco into relaxing when he tensed so much that even one finger was painful.

It took about fifteen minutes for Jean to explain the process, realizing that he hadn't done that yet, and in that time, they managed to share about a hundred kisses, and Marco had taken three fingers without unbearable discomfort.

Apparently that was enough, because Jean pulled them out, kissing him again as he reached blindly for that bottle again, performing a strange dance as he tried to open it, pour it on his hand, and apply it to his erection all without breaking away from Marco's bruising lips.

He did pull away, though, once everything was all lined up. He looked like he had something he wanted to say, and Marco conveyed his consent to the conversation without even saying a word.

"Um, baby, I just want to tell you; The first time might not be great. I'm gonna do everything I can, but if you're too tense or not into it, then it won't feel spectacular. If it's bad or hurts or something, tell me. I don't want to fuck this up and get you all scared of it or anything. So just… Talk to me, alright? And take it slow. No need to rush or anything. And, uh, if you want me to change the angle or something, tell me, and-"

"Jean." Marco whined, lifting his hips up just enough to show that the word vomit was not helping nor deterring him from his arousal. The teen in question took one more deep breath before realigning and beginning to press forward, not even getting the whole head in before he stopped, head snapping up to look at Marco's face, to gauge his reaction. When there was none, he began to inch forward, stopping at the first little sound the brunette made.

"Baby?" He called, reaching out to brush Marco's bangs aside.

"I'm fine, it's just weird." The larger gritted out. In actuality, it sort of hurt. Not enough that he wanted to stop, but enough that it was uncomfortable. Despite his words, Jean seemed to sense that Marco needed a moment to adjust, and he waited till the freckled boy had relaxed before pressing forward yet again.

It was in this manner that they finally found themselves hips-to-ass, breathing a bit heavy and staring at each other rather shamelessly.

"I'm in." Jean offered. Marco managed a smile.

"Yeah, I can tell." He joked, curling his toes on either side of Jean's waist as he tried to accustom his body to the new feeling. "Can you wait just a minute?" He asked.

"Of course I can, sweetheart." Jean cooed, leaning over carefully, to trail kisses along his lover's chest, waiting while Marco reminded each of his muscles to stop clenching up so much. It took some convincing, but eventually he got comfortable enough to continue.

"A-Alright, you can move." He decided, forcing himself not to tense up in anticipation. The motion surprised him; It was gentler than he expected, slow and smooth. It was still uncomfortable, of course, but not nearly as terrible as he had feared.

Jean kept at that slow pace until Marco started moving for himself, carefully easing them into a rhythm, gaining in speed slowly, bit by bit. It was starting to drive Marco mad. It was such a strange feeling, but it had stopped being unpleasant somewhere along the line. It wasn't as gratifying as just getting jerked or sucked off, but it wasn't bad either.

Even though he was aware of what a prostate was and what it had the potential to feel like, he hadn't really expected the sensation. Even as he forced his jaw closed following a silent scream of surprised pleasure, he wasn't sure what had happened.

Lucky for him, Jean picked up on it, and retained the angle, managing to hit the right spot every few thrusts, the motion much faster and sloppier than before, not that Marco had the mind to complain. Between the new sensation from inside and Jean wrapping a hand around his arousal, he wasn't doing much thinking at all.

He could tell that Jean had come, mostly because it spilled out and ran down his ass a bit, but also from a thick sort of warmth. Even through his orgasm, though, Jean was considerate enough to keep his hand moving, his hips trying to keep up still. Marco came with something between a whimper and a shaky moan, his body trembling with the feeling. Then he went entirely limp, practically boneless as his lungs fought for air.

Jean gave him a moment, then cuddled up against his collar bone, snuggling there till they'd both calmed down and their feverish skin had cooled to be almost chilly.

"Mmm, that was amazing baby, you're amazing." He sighed happily, kissing lazily at the flesh presented before him, which happened to be his boyfriend's chest. Marco chuckled, nodding absently.

"Yeah, way better than I thought." He agreed, flexing his fingers and toes. Jean smiled at that, capturing one of Marco's hands in his.

"I'm glad it didn't suck. My first time definitely did. But the guy I was with didn't have a fucking clue what he was doing either. But, er, anyway, thanks for giving it a try."

Marco allowed himself a small smile, squeezing Jean's fingers.

"Thank you for asking. We should do it again, for sure." He suggested, fighting with his eyelids which appeared desperate to shut.

"Yeah. But for now, a shower." Jean announced. Marco groaned, but no amount of protest would get him out of bathing, so he let Jean support most of his weight and drag him into the bathroom. He let him do the work too, mostly just standing in place and letting Jean do what he felt necessary.

They didn't have any towels in their bathroom, and wound up shivering on the tile because they didn't want to soak the carpet and had no idea which box the towels would be in. Once they deemed themselves dry enough, they raced for the bedroom, diving into the unmade bed and snuggling close together, practically nose to nose as they finally let themselves get some rest. They'd earned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always say that I'm going to have so much more time to write when I go on break from school. Unfortunately, when I get out of school, all of my motivation disappears, and I spend my days watching bad Netflix anime, getting drunk with my roommate and her boyfriend and playing rhythm games, and generally accomplishing very little.
> 
> So, yeah, long story short, this wait was uncalled for, and I am sorry. As I always am. I hope it was worth the wait, but you know, you're free to be angry at me, I suppose. I deserve it. I need to update wwfg too… Goodness me.
> 
> Anywho, I do have work tomorrow, so I ought to get going. I'm vegging out pretty hardcore, so I think it's time to call it a night. It's for the best. Thanks, as always for reading guys. We're almost there, two more! Till next time!
> 
> KuroRiya  
> 九六りや


	19. Chapter 19

It was amazing how little they knew how to do. The first few days were pretty easy. Fun, even, in a way. Unpacking and making the place look like it really belonged to them was an enjoyable process, despite how tired it left them each day.

But then they had to pay their first bill. And, after getting envelopes, they realized they actually had no idea how to even mail things. Their first attempt was put right back in their mailbox, seeing as they had no stamp. Their second attempt was accidentally addressed to themselves, so that one wound up in the same place as well.

They finally looked up a guide and managed to get the bill in before it was delinquent. But they had learned that lesson the hard way.

They also learned that toilet paper was a thing they had to buy. And drinks. And cleaning supplies. And lightbulbs. They also had no idea how to fix the toilet when it suddenly broke.

All these things, of course, were figured out with time and a lot of head scratching. Eventually, though, they got into the swing of things, and were able to spend more time just cuddling on the couch and regretting their life choices together.

Marco hadn't even realized how much he needed some independence till he had it. He never knew how wonderful it was to be able to curl up naked on the couch with the love of his life in the middle of the day and not worry about which of his siblings might see his ass. Or how much he wanted to fuck in the kitchen so loud the neighbors had to turn on loud music to drown out the noises.

It was terrifying and wonderful and he never wanted to give it up.

When school started, Marco quickly took to it, doing his homework while cuddled up against Jean's side while he watched some shitty Netflix movie and ran his fingers through the bigger boy's hair.

Things went well for ages. What felt like too long. And maybe it was, because after a while, it started to grate on them. Marco found himself staying late at school even though he didn't get enough homework to warrant that much time spent away. Jean would stay out late some nights and come home smelling like whiskey.

Marco had promised himself, long ago, that if Jean ever screamed at him the way he had during their argrument again, he'd break it off. And, one night, after getting home a little too late to a Jean that was still a little too drunk, they got to fighting. It was a stupid one, and looking back on it, he realized that they were just seeing too much of each other, but still, it was enough that he packed a bag and left.

He spent a week at his parents' house, sulking around with a tub of ice cream and watching depressing romantic movies. Marie took to calling him 'Mopey Marco' and he couldn't blame her, because that's exactly what he was doing. He was too down to even deny it.

Jean quit working at the café after several awkward shifts of doing everything in their power not to be alone in the same room.

After it became clear that he wasn't coming back, Hanji was forced to hire a new queer, in the form of one Bertholdt Fubar. He needed the money to get through nursing school, and he proved to be good company while Marco was feeling down.

It would turn out that they had more in common than they'd anticipated. They liked a lot of the same music, and spent a lot of their breaks sharing a pair of earbuds and Bertholdt's IPod. And they watched all the same shows, so Marco wound up spending a lot of time at Reiner and Bertholdt's house, wedged in next to Bertholdt on the couch while Reiner stroked his boyfriend's hair. And he liked to cook, but Reiner wasn't allowed in the kitchen, and so Marco would join him out on the couch and listen to him gush about the wonder that was Bertholdt.

They were a seriously great couple, and he was a little jealous that they were still working out.

"How do you guys do it?" He wondered, arms crossed on their kitchen table while Bertholdt worked on dinner. Reiner was still at work.

Bertholdt hummed, changing the heat setting of the burner and keeping an eye on the food even while he spoke.

"I don't know. We get on each other's nerves sometimes, but I think we've learned when we need to spend some time apart." He explained. "If we start getting too snippity around each other, one of us will go visit family or stay with a friend for a bit. After a week or so, we're missing each other and ready to move on."

Marco wished it had gone like that with Jean. He hadn't seen him since he'd quit at the café, but he knew he was still occupying their apartment, since his car was typically in the parking lot whenever Marco passed by. He wanted to know how he was doing, but wasn't sure how to broach the stagnant air between them.

Still, being around Reiner and Bertholdt helped. If he was feeling down, they'd pick up on it and snuggle with him in their huge bed, sandwiching him carefully and wrapping him up in too many limbs. It was always pleasantly claustrophobic, and Marco looked forward to it.

It wasn't official, but he sort of moved in. It was an amoeba-esque process, his things slowly working their way into drawers and on tables. They never really talked about it, he just sort of became a permanent fixture.

And maybe he was lonely, and maybe he was desperate for some sort of affection, but either way, Marco didn't say no when Bertholdt kissed him for the first time. Or the second time.

And when he explained that he and Reiner were interested in trying out a polyamorous relationship, Marco didn't politely decline. Nor did he ask to stop when they laid him out and showered him with kisses and cautious touches. It made him feel wanted again, and he knew it was the wrong reason, but it didn't stop him from curling up against Bertholdt's chest with Reiner's arm draped over both of their shoulders.

It felt nice to have someone to come home to again. Two someones, in fact. Bertholdt always welcomed him with a little kiss, and Reiner would sweep him up and crush him in a hug complete with a little peck. And he was happy, really he was. He was always warm at night, cuddling with one or both of them. And he woke up to happy smiles and good-natured jokes. And he had someone to take him out for dinner or coffee, and to hold his hands in the movie theatre, and to kiss away his tears when he couldn't stop them anymore.

But it wasn't the same.

The next time he saw Jean was at the grocery store. He didn't even realize it was him until they were reaching for the same box of cookies. Marco turned to offer an apology, but the words died on his lips as he took in the familiar features.

Jean looked surprised to see him. Jean looked tired. Jean looked beautiful.

After some awkward shuffling and conversation, they agreed get some coffee and catch up. It was the least they could do, all things considered.

Marco paid for the drinks before Jean could complain, and they sat down across from each other at a table near the corner, so they could talk without getting too much attention.

After taking a long sip from his latte, Marco cleared his throat.

"So, how have you been holding up?" He asked first, watching Jean people-watch listlessly. He turned at the conversation though.

"Alright, I guess. It took a while to get a decent enough job to pay the bills by myself, but I'm managing." He replied with a shrug. Marco winced.

"Sorry, I… I should have helped." He admitted. "I signed the lease with you, it wasn't fair of me to leave you with all the responsibility."

Jean didn't look at him, sighing into his coffee instead.

"I didn't really mind, at first. I thought about letting it go and crashing with someone till I could figure something else out. But then I kept telling myself you'd come back."

Marco swallowed, and it hurt. His throat, his stomach, his heart. It all ached, more than he knew was possible.

"Jean-" He began, but the other cut him off.

"Don't say you're sorry."

A silence fell between them, one where they avoided eye contact and fiddled with their cups without taking drinks.

And then all at once they were making out in Jean's car and fumbling to touch what hadn't been touched in too long and apologizing and crying and before he knew it, Marco was laying naked on his old bed, Jean's head heavy against his chest, his phone even heavier in the other.

He should have talked to Reiner and Bertholdt. He should have told them, should have explained things. He was cheating, and he never thought he would, but there he was, legs tangled up with Jean's and heart fuller than it had been in a long time.

It wasn't till the next day that he faced the issue, lingering awkwardly outside of the door of the place he'd come to call home after a while. He didn't even realize that time had passed until Reiner came home from work and asked him what on earth he'd been doing. Reiner got off at six every night. Marco had been on the stoop since four.

They understood. They weren't angry, and they didn't yell at him, and they didn't call him any nasty names. They just kissed away his tears like they always did and held him while he slept, and dropped him off at the old apartment the next day.

He had moved back in within three days.

And it was like things had never changed. It was no time at all before they were snuggling on the couch and watching Disney movies and acting like they couldn't get enough of each other's kisses. They tasted better, somehow, after the time apart.

Everyone around them seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as well. Their friends had been on edge, dancing carefully between the two of them, trying to keep them both as friends without inducing any awkward situations. Now that they were together again, it was much easier to plan get togethers, since they could invite both of them.

They all took it well, not even complaining when they found the two lip-locked in the kitchen or cuddling on a piece of lawn furniture. No matter how disgustingly sappy they were acting, everyone was just glad that they were together again.

Even Reiner and Bertholdt took it well. They showed no contempt for Marco's choice, and went back to treating him like a friend again, with the addition of a few pecks here and there. Jean didn't seem to mind too much, especially since they started including him for being a good sport.

They might have had a fourway at some point, but what happens in Reiner's bedroom stays in Reiner's bedroom.

Mrs. Bodt welcomed Jean back into the fold without question, followed slowly by the Bodt clan of children. Marie made sure to remind Jean that he was a stinkbrain on a regular basis, but otherwise treated him as she had before.

Jean never said anything, but Marco could tell he was glad to be back, glad to sit down to dinner every other weekend and play competitive four square with the kids late into the night. He was glad for the infamous Bodt hugs and the random little jibes thrown his way on occasion.

And Marco was glad to have him back. He hadn't even noticed how much he missed the other teen until he had him back again, but now that he did, he never wanted to lose him again.

For that reason, Marco decided to lay down some new ground rules. Taking the advice he'd gotten from Bertholdt, he made Jean promise that they would admit when they were feeling stifled, and take time apart from each other when they really needed to. Because he didn't want a repeat of this, ever. And if that meant they had to take vacations from each other, then so be it.

But for the time being, they were content to suck each other's faces and dicks and apologize for about a month before they let it go and got back to living.

Jean had, apparently, become a lunch lady while he was away. But it wasn't a terrible job for him, since the elementary school kids thought he was pretty rad. What with his two colored hair and the piercings he refused to remove, he looked as badass as was possible in a hairnet.

And it paid better than the café, which was also helpful. The bills were made a little easier, and that helped them get back on track with their finances, and their relationship. Things felt normal again, it was like it had never happened. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more guys~! I know I'm probably sounding like a broken record, counting them down. But wow, just one more. Thanks for sticking around thus far you guys, hope you can hang on for just one more!
> 
> So, I'm sure some of you are like "Whoa, what happened here?" And I'd like to admit something about myself; I consider myself rather romantically minded; I like to believe in soul mates for those of us that seek them, and I like to believe that love is real and all that jazz. But I'm also a firm believer that no relationship is perfect. People butt heads, get in arguments, separate, come back together, and separate again. It's just how humans are, for the most part. So this sort of thing is typical for one of my stories.
> 
> (I'm also a shameless ReiBertJeanMarco shipper but shhh who told you that)
> 
> If I can remember, the next one will be up in a few days to a week. I'm not going to keep you waiting too long on that, since I know waiting for a conclusion can be torturous. Other than that, I hope you all had a lovely holiday season, and good luck to all of my fellow students that will be back in class soon. I know how torturous that can be, but we can totally do this thing!
> 
> Alright, with that, I bid you farewell. Thanks for all the feedback so far, and if you have time I'd love just a little bit more! Regardless, thank you for reading!
> 
> KuroRiya  
> 九六りや


	20. Chapter 20

"Hey baby, you're home early." Jean called, popping his head out from the living room, glancing into the entryway where Marco was taking his shoes off. The one in question grinned, standing up and closing the distance between them for a kiss.

"Class got out early." He offered, setting his laptop case down against the wall.

"How was work?" Jean wondered, wrapping his arms around the other's waist. Marco chuckled, kissing his nose.

"Felt pretty long, but Levi stopped by to say hi. He's been doing really well in that new office job. I think he misses everyone, though." He admitted, smile fond. "But I don't want to talk about work, or school. How's the little monster?" He asked, looking both ways for signs of life.

Jean rolled his eyes, pointing towards the bathroom.

"Finally taking a bath, after he wrestled me for five minutes trying to get out of it." He grumbled, glaring at the bathroom door.

Marco chuckled, offering him a kiss for his troubles.

"Have you already washed him, or?" He trailed. Jean shook his head quickly, stepping back.

"I am not fucking with that mohawk. I'm pretty sure I got a splinter last time I tried to wash the gel out." He complained, backing into the kitchen. "I'll make dinner. Good luck." He called, disappearing around the corner.

Marco sighed, stripping down to his undershirt as he neared the bathroom. He stared at the door for a long time, taking a deep breath before turning the knob.

What he found inside, to be described in one word, was hell.

All of the bath toys that he carefully tucked into a bin at the end of each bath were strewn about without any sort of rhyme or reason. Most of the towels had been tugged from their racks, and were piled up randomly across the floor. And then the water. Oh the water. Marco grimaced at the thought of how much water damage their bathroom was likely to endure in the years to come. Another deep breath.

"Stefan." He called, eyes on the tub as he stepped into the bathroom fully, his socks already soaked before he'd even managed to take four steps. Sacrifices must be made.

The boy in question popped his head out of the water, suds dripping down his temples, though his immaculately crafted Mohawk was still almost perfectly in place, only the very tips bending with water-weight. Marco grimaced.

"Papà!" Stefan cried, making to clamber out of the tub, likely to give his father a hug, but Marco halted him in his tracks, carefully placing him back in the water.

"Ah-ah, not until you are clean and dry." He scolded, earning a pout that was cuter than it ought to have been. He reached for the shampoo, bracing himself before tackling the gelled hair. "How about no mohawk tomorrow?" He suggested gently, earning a scowl from his son. He scoffed. "Oh, come on! You can look like papà tomorrow!" This earned him a very familiar roll of the eyes.

"Papà's a loser." The younger mumbled. Marco let out an indignant squeak.

"Excuse me, what did you just say?" He demanded, eyes narrow. Stefan looked like he regretted saying anything, but it was too late.

"Daddy says so." He professed quietly. Marco huffed, scrubbing the hair harder as he turned his head to shout over his shoulder.

"I'M A LOSER NOW, HUH?" He yelled, hearing a clatter from the kitchen, followed by quick footsteps.

"You little snitch!" Jean cried as he slid into the doorway. "What did I tell you?!"

Stefan looked very much like a small animal facing down utter demise. Two utter demises.

"S-Snitches get stitches?" He murmured.

Marco turned on the other man, hands soapy and brow quirked.

"You told him what?" He hissed lowly. Now Jean looked just about as afraid for his life as Stefan.

"U-Um, nothing! I don't know where he heard that. Or that you're a loser. You're totally not, babe. You're totally rad and stuff. Um, I need to get back to dinner. The, uh, water. It's burning." He blurted, scrambling back to the kitchen.

Marco made another noise of distress before returning to the boy's hair, finally managing to get it looking like normal hair again. Stefan stayed quiet for most of it, not speaking again till Marco was dumping cups of water over his head.

"Papà?" He said quietly, eyes closed so no shampoo would get in, but voice sincere.

"Yes?"

"I don't actually think you're a loser. Promise."

Marco's face hurt from how big he smiled, hefting the boy out of the water and settling him down on the bathmat before bending down to drain the water out of the tub.

"Thank you, Stefan. But I'll never be as cool as you." He swore, finding the driest towel left in the room, grimacing when it was still a bit damp. He draped it over his son's shoulders, scrubbing his hair a few times to get most of the moisture out, followed by a full-body rubdown.

"Alright, go get your jammies on, then we'll have dinner." He delegated, waiting till the little one had raced off to do as told, the promise of food all that was needed to get him moving, even if he was buck naked. Once he was alone in the room, he began cleaning up, putting away the toys and hanging the towels back up after sopping up the mess on the floor.

He joined Jean in the kitchen with a sigh, sneaking up on him and wrapping his arms around the smaller man's waist, resting his chin against his shoulder.

"You really shouldn't be making our son into a gangster." He reprimanded, stealing a macaroni shell from the pot. Jean glanced over his shoulder with disapproval.

"And you really shouldn't be stealing burning hot macaroni from the pot, but we both know that isn't going to stop happening any time soon." He shot back. Marco laughed, licking the cheese off of his fingers.

"You know how much I love your mac and cheese." He offered, kissing Jean's cheek.

"I know it's great, but wait like, five more minutes. It's almost done." The shorter tutted, batting Marco's hand away with a wooden spoon, pointing him towards the stairs. "Go make sure he remembered to put his dolls away. Armin came over today, and they got them all out. I told him to put them up, but you know how much he listens to me." He muttered, and Marco laughed, planting one more kiss to his cheek before climbing the stairs.

"Stefan!" He called, hearing a noise from the boy's room. Upon entering, he sighed. Jean had been right; There were dolls everywhere. "I'm pretty sure daddy told you to clean these up." He pointed out, nodding down to one black haired doll in particular. His son groaned, pushing his arm through the last hole of his shirt.

"But-" He tried, but Marco cut him off in a flash.

"Nope, come on. I'll help you, but they need to be put away before dinner. All of your cars too."

With no shortage of grumbling, they got them all put away, the last two Ken dolls going on top, where they always did. The two had been affectionately named Jean and Marco, though the resemblance was all but non-existent. They were Stefan's favorites though, so neither man had the heart to complain.

"Daddy said Uncle Armin came over to play with you." Marco said conversationally. Stefan lit up like a box of fireworks, fidgeting with excitement.

"Yup! He looked so pretty today, Papà!" He exclaimed, wringing his fingers together. Marco smiled, nodding.

"Armin always does." He agreed, scooting the box of dolls under the bed and holding his hand out. Stefan took it, following his father out towards the stairs. "You should have seen him at prom. He stole the show." He recalled, smiling.

"Do you think I could have a pretty dress like Uncle Armin? I want to be beautiful too." He whispered, looking up with hope in his eyes. Marco quirked a brow.

He'd been raised in an age where boys played with Tonka trucks and wore jeans every day. Anything else was seriously frowned upon. He never imagined that, someday, he'd be buying his own son Barbies and dresses. That sort of thing had always been unheard of, until just recently. Even still, most people would call him a terrible parent. But he couldn't say he really minded. He'd never seen a happier kid in his life, and that meant he was probably doing something right.

"Well, you're already beautiful, but I don't see why not." He replied, smiling. Stefan beamed. "What do you think, Jean?" He asked as they entered the dining room. Jean paused, looking their way.

"About what?" He asked, getting back to work on setting all the dishes down. Marco chuckled fondly.

"Stefan wants to get a dress, like Armin's." Was the reply. Jean paused again, then he shrugged, grinning.

"Sounds like a good plan to me. Do you want one just like Armin's? All pink and frilly?"

Stefan seemed to consider it a moment, lips pursed. They watched him race off to the living room, sparing each other an amused glance before he was racing back in with a dvd case in hand.

"I want a dress like Lilo!" He announced, shoving the dvd into Marco's hands before climbing into his chair. Jean walked over, watching as Marco flipped the case over a few times in his hand before setting it on the counter.

"Alright, we'll see what we can do, little monster." The taller promised, sitting down as well. Jean followed suit, helping Stefan make his plate before starting on his own. Everyone got to work eating, chitchatting through the meal.

Afterwards came a movie of Stefan's choosing while they munched on some cookies Marco brought home from the café. The movie of the night was the Iron giant, and both Jean and Marco felt a little silly when they were blubbering at the end, especially since Stefan didn't even bat a lash.

After that, it was time to get the little terror ready for bed, Jean loading his Monsters Inc. toothbrush with toothpaste while Marco got his bed ready, turning on the nightlight. He was shortly joined by the other two, and he grinned as he helped the smallest into bed, sitting on the edge. Jean sat at the foot, leaning back against the wall.

"What's it going to be tonight?" Jean asked, leaning down to the crate of books on the floor. After some debate, Stefan decided on Harry the Dirty Dog. It was a quick read, and then they were tucking him in and giving him bedtime kisses. Just as they were slipping out of the door, his voice rose up from the bed.

"I want the new Spiderman action figure too." He added, throwing both men for a loop for several seconds before they recovered enough to share a laugh.

"We'll see, you little terror. Go to sleep." Jean commanded in his best dad-voice.

"Night daddy. Night papà." Stefan called, settling into the sheets. They watched for a moment, to make sure he wouldn't try to sneak back out of bed, then they headed towards the bathroom, Jean turning the water on while Marco stripped down. He followed suit, slipping in after Marco and settling between his legs.

"I definitely needed Wednesday bath night." Marco admitted, adjusting his position so that he could better relax into the water. Jean waited for him to get comfortable before doing so himself, reclining back against the other man's chest.

"Stressed?" He guessed. Marco shrugged, wrapping his arms around the other's shoulders.

"I guess you could say that. Ever since Hanji gave me the café, I feel like I'm losing my mind. I never realized how much they put into it! Keeping all the books and making sure everyone's doing their job… I had no idea!" He admitted. Jean glanced back over his shoulder, craning for a quick kiss.

"Do you not want it anymore?" He asked carefully. Marco frowned, shaking his head.

"I love it, Jean. It's just going to take me a while to get used to running it and going to school. And besides, I'm almost done with my Master's, and then it won't be an issue. I'm just a little tired." He admitted, wriggling his toes, giggling when Jean laid his feet over them, wiggling his toes as well.

"Well, I have some news that might help." Jean offered. Marco waited to hear it. "Remember that promotion I asked for?"

Marco felt elation rise up in his chest.

"Oh my god, you got it?" He cried excitedly. Jean scoffed.

"No. I got fired." He deadpanned. And his voice sounded so miffed, so sincere, that Marco actually believed it and was about to go into comforting mode, until he heard a small snicker.

"Jean Kirstein, don't you scare me like that!" He hissed, swatting Jean's shoulder. It made a wet slapping sound that made them both wince, going silent and listening to make sure they hadn't woken Stefan. Then Jean chuckled.

"Lighten up, sweetheart. I got it." He amended, legs sloshing as he shuffled a little. Marco sighed dramatically, waiting while Jean settled in again before hugging him tightly to his chest.

"Congratulations, you major asshole." He grumbled. Jean barked out a laugh, wiggling till he could kiss at Marco's cheek.

"Thanks babe."

They were quiet for a while, just sitting peacefully before Jean made a noise.

"Oh, don't forget, Stefan's mom scheduled a visitation this weekend. We've gotta go meet her at Chipotle on Saturday.

Marco's throat made a whining noise he had literally no control over.

"I completely forgot! God, I'll have to ask Bertl to look after the café for me." He announced. A beat of silence, then he scoffed. "Stefan hates Chipotle."

Jean laughed as well.

"More than gender expectations." He agreed.

They both snickered, splashing around as they got to work on actually bathing, slipping out and snuggling in a towel for a while before shuffling to their bedroom, peeking in to check on Stefan. He looked perfectly like their child, to the point it was sort of hard to tell he was adopted. That probably wouldn't show until he was older anyway. But honestly, the only thing that gave him away were the blue eyes. The few freckles he'd developed from playing outside stood out in the nightlight's glow, his pale brown hair a mess already against the pillow.

They thought themselves rather lucky to have been fortunate enough to adopt such a perfect creature.

"Look at that little monster." Jean cooed, earning a quiet laugh from the other man. "Probably dreaming up ways to make his mohawk stay up even after you wash him."

Marco groaned, shoving Jean back into the hallway and towards the correct door.

"How about you bathe him tomorrow. It was your idea to let him have a Mohawk." He suggested, already dreading the thought.

"Only if you cook dinner." Jean fired back, quirking a brow because he knew he'd won.

"Sure. It'll be the fanciest thing we've had in ages. Pizza Rolls and Velveeta." Marco decided. Jean made a face as he closed the door behind them, following Marco to the bed after depositing their towels in the hamper.

"Look, I know you're technically still a college kid, but not even you have any business eating like that." He complained. Marco giggled, tugging Jean onto the mattress by his arm.

"I like Pizza Rolls." He argued, pouting to the best of his ability.

"Not happening." Jean replied firmly, shaking his head. "Now stop fighting a losing battle and get your naked ass over here. I want to cuddle."

Marco never had and never would get over that prickly attitude paired with words sweeter than honey.

"Such a charmer." He sassed, scooting over anyway. They silently argued over the position, switching around limbs and shifting postures until they were comfortably wrapped up in each other under the sheets. Marco stretched for a moment, grabbing the cord of the lamp and tugging a few times before the bulb went out and their eyes were left to adjust to the scant light. It didn't take long, and they settled back into the pillows with contented sighs.

"Mmm, baby?" Jean prompted, waiting till he was sure he had the other's attention. Marco chuckled at the feeling of his love absently twisting the band around his finger.

"What, Jean?" He wondered, quirking a curious brow. Jean gave him a shit-eating grin, and the taller regretted responding at all.

"I love you."

He groaned.

"Oh my god, you big gay loser. Go to bed!" Marco hissed, batting the other's hand away before settling his own on a slim hip. Jean only cackled, the sound muted into the pillows. He calmed down quickly enough, though, snuggling closer. More shifting, and they got settled with Jean's nose pressed into Marco's collar, arms twined round his chest.

The silence was comfortable as they drifted off, but Marco managed one last smile.

"I love you too, Jean."

The smaller man whined, weakly slapping his husband's back.

"Shut it, Bodt-Kirstein." He grumbled half-heartedly, pressing even closer. Marco smiled dopily.

"Anything for you, Mrs. Bodt-Kirstein."

Another groan.

"We will discuss the gender-dynamics of our relation in the morning, but I swear to all things holy that if you do not shut your perfect mouth I will kick your freckled ass right out of this bed." Jean warned. Marco only snickered.

"As if you would." He scoffed.

"Don't try me." Jean growled. Marco smirked.

"If I'm not mistaken, you're the one that always ends up on the couch. I'd watch it." Marco shot back. Jean cracked his eyes open only to glower.

"Why did I marry you?" He demanded. Marco's grin only grew.

"Because I'm the best thing that ever happened to you?" He suggested. Jean nodded, rolling his eyes.

"Something like that. Go to sleep." He urged, closing his eyes again. And as much as Marco wanted to torment him further, he too was growing tired, so he relaxed into the plush and the warmth and shut his eyes, just breathing in the life he'd built and the family he'd created. It was a strangely sentimental moment, and he wondered for a time why he was dwelling on it.

Then he remembered that he'd worn his favorite sweater vest to class that day, along with Jean's old leather jacket. It still, somehow, smelled like smoke. Smoke, and vodka, and a night of throwing up, and a night of cuddling, and days of held hands and kisses and hugs, and months of sex, and years of love.

It smelled like Bodt-Kirstein, and there was nothing in the world quite as wonderful as that, in Marco's opinion. Nothing quite like knowing one person so well that you could guess which boxers they were wearing just from the way they trudged down the hall in the morning. Nothing quite like stealing kisses while smooshing a precious child with love, much to his chagrin. Nothing quite like knowing the curves and planes of a body so well that you could draw a three dimensional map without even a glance. Nothing quite like coming home to kisses from a loving husband and hugs from an adoring son, and knowing that it'd be that way for years to come.

Marco knew the name Jean Bodt-Kirstein quite well. He heard it on a nearly constant basis, from friends, or passing gossipers, but mostly, from himself. He'd caught a glimpse in high school, and couldn't help but try to see more. And here he was, a lifetime later, still entranced, still in love. He'd needed an excuse or a happy coincidence.

He'd gotten lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And as the pink guys says, that's all, folks. I counted this as a chapter, but it functions more accurately as an epilogue, if I'm being honest, considering the time jump. But I like to wrap stories up this way, so that the future isn't so vague that you aren't sure what's in store for them. Now you know: They become big dumb gay domestic losers. Ain't that just the way?
> 
> Stefan, who was sort of a spur of the moment decision, quickly earned a big place in my heart. He's up there with Marie, if that's any indication. Any child that insists on a mohawk and a dress is my hero. He'd totally have playdates with Reiner and Bertholdt's kid. And he gave me an opportunity to bring up another issue I consider important. I really think we need to start moving away from gender expectations, and just let children do what they want to do. While I was bought mostly toys for girls, my mother never really limited me. If I wanted a sit and ride truck instead of a Barbie, then she'd get me that. I had one of those child-sized cars, and she let me have the scary red jeep instead of the pink and flowery convertible. I was never told I couldn't play with my cousin's toys when we went over to visit him. (Which was practically on a daily basis.)
> 
> Letting children have that freedom will give them an opportunity to explore who they are without the pressure of trying to figure it out later on in life when they've already begun presenting themselves one way, and then possibly trying to change it. Objects only have certain gender associations because we attach them, and why bother with that? Well, that's how I feel, anyway. But regardless, Stefan was a fun character, and he'll probably show up in future JeanMarco fics I put out.
> 
> I didn't really mean for this fic to become representation 101. I honestly started out with just Nerd!Marco and Punk!Jean. Somehow, I wound up with not only them, but pastel goth!Armin, Trans!Levi, Polyamorous!Reibert, Genderqueer!Hanji… And more gay and lesbian characters than I can even list. It's been fun, though, and I hope that a few people had an opportunity to learn something along the way.
> 
> But most of all, I hope you all had fun reading, because I had a lot of fun writing. I hope it was sweet and angsty and hilarious and even sad sometimes. If you've made it this far, I hope you feel like it was worth your time. However you feel on the matter, though, thank you for sticking around for so long, and for reading. To those that have left feedback, and who might in the future, thank you so much, it seriously means the world to me. If I could send you all flowers and chocolates and gay losers I would but I am poor and there are too many of you and some of you might be allergic to one or all of the above possible gifts.
> 
> Since this is the last chapter, I think I ought to mention that I have other stories you can read! For JeanMarco, I've got Where Wildflowers Grow (which is my other, ongoing chaptered fic.) And several one/two shots. I've got a completed EreMin story, called What Lies Beyond the Walls, as well as a few oneshots. I've got a Trans!Bertholdt/Reiner oneshot (That will soon have a second part.) Just be aware that each has a different setting/tone. They won't all be as light and fluffy as this story. And I've written a few things for other fandoms, if you like other fandoms. Feel free to check things out if you like, though it's entirely up to you.
> 
> Alright, yep, I'm rambling. So, thank you for being a fantastic audience, and till next time! 3
> 
> KuroRiya  
> 九六りや

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Well, I told myself to wait, but I couldn’t anymore! I’ve had this one saved up for a long time now, and wanted to post it, and my excitement won over my restraint.
> 
> I’ll admit, this story is going to be a bit fast paced, as I don’t want it to go on endlessly like most of my others do. It’s already five chapters long, and counting, so it’s a decent sized fic, but I don’t want to realize thirty chapters down the road that I hecked up. So just be prepared for a pace a bit quicker than my other stories. It does slow down a bit as it goes though, promise!
> 
> Anyway, I think it’s important to mention, there will be a little bit of recreational drug use in a later chapter, as well as underage drinking. You know, normal teenage stuff. But I like to mention these things. Hopefully nothing that’ll trigger anything though. I’m trying to keep this story pretty mild. I just wanted anyone who would want to know that ahead of time that it’s going to happen, eventually.
> 
> Alright, I’ll leave it at that! Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated. I don’t usually work with third person, so let me know if you have any comments on that or anything. Thanks again!
> 
> KuroRiya  
> 九六りや


End file.
